


The Dragon Thief

by TARDIS_10



Series: Bonds Beyond Blood [1]
Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Mild Langauge, Nightmares, PTSD, Rape, Skyrim Main Quest, Smut, Spoilers, Thieves Guild, Violence, some drama, sorry I'm not good with tags
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-25
Updated: 2017-01-21
Packaged: 2018-05-15 19:39:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 11
Words: 22,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5797291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TARDIS_10/pseuds/TARDIS_10
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vivienne Mallory, Delvin Mallory's daughter, travels to Riften to escape her life as Dovahkiin, and join the family business. It isn't long before a certain Brynjolf catches her eye and eventually, her heart. But does he feel the same way?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Right so a few things. First, I'm writing this all from my phone so I can write more often, so sorry if the chapters seem really short. Second, because it's my phone, I often deal with autocorrect so if you see something misspelled, let me know. I think that's all for now, thanks for reading!

The wind blew lazily off Lake Honrich; bring in the cold winds of autumn and chilling the citizens of Riften, though the Nords that lived there had grown quite accustomed to the cold air of Skyrim. The sun, though shining brightly, did little to chase away the bitter cold of the city. For the people of Riften, this was simply another day in their mundane lives. As usual, vendors stood in the center of the town, shouting sales pitches and trying to draw in customers to by their wares, though the only one that seemed capable of accomplishing this was Brynjolf, a fiery haired Nord with a thick accent and alluring charm that seemed to draw in all, selling what he called Falmer Blood Elixir to whatever simpleton would listen. To the visitors of Riften, Brynjolf was an honest merchant that appeared to have fallen on hard times and was making an honest living. While he was, in fact, struggling to keep the gold flowing in his pockets, his work was less than honorable, and the people of Riften knew him for what he truly was: a member of the Thieves Guild.

 The Thieves Guild, as you’ve probably guessed from the name, is a faction made up entirely of thieves that dedicated their lives entirely to the art of stealth. Once, they had been a great and powerful organization that was feared, much like the Brotherhood. Now, their reputation amounted to little to anyone who lived outside of Riften, as that was the only city in which they still had a strong grasp on. Most in the guild boiled down their misfortune to simple bad luck and nothing more. However, a few, mainly a man named Delvin Mallory, believed that the guild had been cursed for some reason, and that the only way for them to become successful again was for the curse to be lifted, though none were quite sure how that was to be accomplished.

 Brynjolf, who was selling his watered-down health potion as some fabled elixir, did so to bring in more profit for the guild, and to scout for potential recruits, as they were sorely lacking in that department. As it so happened, he spotted, or more glimpsed, a young women that made her way through the streets, quickly and carefully fishing in peoples’ pockets and taking away their gold, jewels, and whatever valuables they had on them. The woman, for he knew they must be from the curve of their chest, wore form-fitting leather armor and a hood that obscured their face, making it difficult to see their face. At first, Brynjolf was impressed with the way she wove through the crowd, robbing whoever she happened upon without alerting them in the slightest, and then she happened upon Maven. Maven Black-Briar was one of Riften’s noble women, and as such, she held great influence in the hold. The thief was talented enough that she could steal from Maven without fear of getting caught, but Maven was an important client to the Thieves Guild and, even if it weren’t a member of the guild that had stolen from her, she would still blame them, most likely resulting in a scolding from Mercer. Surprisingly enough, when the thief passed Maven, she kept her hands to herself and offered only a polite nod to her and retreated to the Bee and Barb, apparently done robbing for the day.

 Curious, Brynjolf closed up his stall, claiming he had run out of elixir to sell, and entered the inn himself, scanning through the current patrons until his eyes found his quarry and he seated himself at a table across the room from her, one that would allow him to watch her without her taking notice. Now seated, the woman finally lowered her hood, giving him a clear view to fully study her. She was quite the beauty with her platinum hair pulled back into a messy braid, her dark brown eyes glinting with the firelight of the inn, sun kissed skin, and full lips. Her form held the curves of any woman, and though he could certainly tell she was a Breton, she was a rather tall Breton, taller than most he had seen before then.

 Though seated across the inn from her, it was clear to him that she was waiting for someone, as she was seated at a table that gave her clear view of both exits and the stairs leading to the rooms above them, but he had yet to see anyone join her. There were a few instances where a man would pluck up the courage to approach her, but would simply turn away once she fixed them with a glare cold enough to chill a dragon. As Brynjolf watched her, he couldn’t help but feel there was something familiar about her. The way nose and jaw were shaped, how she held herself as she sipped on a mug of ale, and the look in her eyes seemed eerily familiar to him, but he couldn’t quite place why he felt that way. Lost in his thoughts, he never noticed that someone had walked by him until they sat down at the woman’s table, that someone being none other than Delvin Mallory, a high ranking member of the Thieves Guild.

 Brynjolf had known Delvin since he was but a child, and knowing him so well, he figured Delvin would try to sweet talk the woman into his bed, but the notion quickly flew out the window as he finally realized who the woman reminded him of. He wasn’t sure how, but as he watched the two thieves embrace, it became clear to him that the mystery thief was related to Delvin Mallory.

 “I ‘aven’t seen you since you were a little tyke. You’ve grown.” Delvin remarked as he pulled away from his daughter and sat across from her.

 Vivienne smirked, “People tend to do that. Now then, did I impress?”

 Vivienne Mallory had to Riften months back on a quest to find Esbern, an old associate of Delphine’s, and someone who could help turn the tide in the war against the dragons. She had stolen Madesei’s ring like Brynjolf had asked her to, which was child’s play in her eyes, and had cut her way through the bandits of the Ratway to get to the Ragged Flagon to get the information from Brynjolf. While there, she had seen Delvin and he had seen her, both recognizing each other, but neither saying a word as they knew it was neither the time nor place for such matters. However, as she made to leave the Flagon to retrieve Esbern from the Ratway vaults, Delvin slipped her a note asking to speak with her when she had time.

 At first, Vivienne had planned to finish her business as dragonborn before she approached her father, but after being in Sky Heaven Temple and learning the gravity of her situation, her thoughts turned back towards Riften and the father that eagerly awaited her arrival. While happy she had returned and was willing to reconnect with him, Delvin insisted on her proving that she was as skilled a thief as she claimed, and so sent her to pick Grelka’s pocket and bring what coin she had back to him. However, not one to back away from a challenge and wanting to truly impress her father, Vivienne had taken it a step further and picked every pocket in the market, save those who carried the name Black-Briar, as she had been previously warned that they were off limits.

 Delvin laughed warmly at her comment and nodded, motioning for Keerva to bring him a mug of ale. “Aye. I suppose they do. You did well, girly, and I’m very impressed. I’d even wager that Brynjolf was too.”

 Both thieves had been well aware of Brynjolf’s gaze the entire time, but neither bothered to say anything to him, or even hint that they knew he was watching, as the game was far more interesting that way. Of course, Vivienne knew this meant that her performance hadn’t been flawless, she had been seen, but she could hardly be faulted for that little mishap as Brynjolf’s main job was to watch for new blood to recruit, and if she had impressed him as well, then she considered it a job well done.

 Smiling, Vivienne took a sip of her ale, “Always nice to male a good impression on the higher ups, especially since it’s up to him whether or not im recruited.” Still smiling, she nodded over to Brynjolf, “Should we invite him over? Poor lad looks as if he’s trying too hard to figure out what’s happening.”

 Delvin laughed brightly and nodded, waving Brynjolf over, who eagerly stood and moved swiftly to their table and sat down, his gaze shifting from Vivienne to Delvin, and then back again. The first thing that caught Vivienne’s attention was his eyes, which were an emerald green, but held everything. While his face and body language gave no indications, his eyes said he was confused, and was steadily working the problem over in his mind.

 Vivienne smirked, “ I do believe that he may pop if he keeps thinking this hard.”

 Brynjolf’s eyes settled on her, and he gave a slight nod of agreement. “If what I was staring at wasn’t so confusing, I may have figured it out by now.”

 “This is Vivienne, my daughter. Don’t ask how,” Delvin said with a hand raised, interrupting whatever questions Brynjolf had, “just accept that this is my daughter, and move on.”

 Reluctantly, Brynjolf nodded, a bit unsure of the situation, but trusted Delvin enough to not question him. “I suppose it makes sense, she’s a mighty fine thief after all.”

 “That she is, now on to business. Vivi here wants to join the guild, so I sent her to do a bit o’ fishin’, and I do believe she’s impressed. I figured you could give her a few odd jobs to satisfy any concerns you may have, before introducing her to Mercer, yes?”

 Brynjolf nodded, a clever smirk upon his lips, “Aye, there’s a few she can take.”

 Vivienne was glaring slightly at Delvin for the nickname, but continued to quietly sit and listen to them speak, knowing better than to interrupt Delvin when business was going down. She hadn’t known him for long, but the few times they had spoken, she had learned not to interrupt unless the situation was dire.

 “Good. I’ll leave you, then.” Delvin said with a smile and stood, patting Vivienne’s shoulder lightly before returning to the Guild.

 The two thieves watched him go a moment, both feeling somewhat awkward now that he had left, and both refusing to look at each other a moment, choosing instead to sip on their mugs of ale in uncomfortable and maddening silence, despite the tavern being as busy as ever. After his ale was gone, Brynjolf sighed softly to himself and ran a head through his hair, nodding slightly as if agreeing on something. “Alright, lass. I’ve got a few jobs for you to take care of.”

 Vivienne nodded, “Who am I taking care of?”

 About an hour later, Vivienne made her way to the Ragged Flagon, carrying three heavy coin purses. Convincing the marks to give her the gold had been simple enough; Bersi coughing up the gold when she ran a dagger over his precious, dwarven urn, Helga handing it over when she threatened to toss her statue of Dibella down a well, and by the time she had circled back to Keerva, the Argonian had already heard of what happened to the others and had her gold waiting to be collected. All in all, it was a successful haul, one that left her beaming with pride as she entered the Flagon and plopped down in a chair in front of Brynjolf, dropping the purses in front of him with a satisfying clink of gold on gold.

 “You’ve done well, lass.” He remarked, smiling as he took the gold and counted out her cut of the deal, pushing it back across the table for her.

 Taking her cut, Vivienne leaned back and rested her feet on the table, arms folded across her chest. “I’ve never been one to disappoint. Word on the street is the Guild isn’t doing too well. That true?”

 He nodded curtly. “Aye, the Guild has hit a bit of a rough patch, but we’ll pull through. Old Delvin thinks it’s a curse.”

 “He tends to think that way.” Vivienne said with a roll of her yes.

 Brynjolf nodded and stood, his hand offered to her. “I figured as much. You ready to meet Mercer?”

 Vivienne grinned and took his hand, standing and walked with him towards the Cistern’s door. “If he’s anything like Da described, then he shouldn’t be too difficult to deal with.”

 Brynjolf chuckled lowly and nodded, leading her through the false backing on the closet and towards the Cistern’s doors, and pushed them open.  


	2. Chapter 2

_Cold. I hate being cold. The only thing that could make this worse is if I were wet. Oh that’s right, I_ am _wet._

The meeting with Mercer Frey had gone about as well as Vivienne had expected it to, which wasn’t very well at all. When Brynjolf had brought her into the Cistern, she had been expecting much more than a large, circular room that had moss growing in the cracks of the stone, and water that emptied from large drainage tunnels into small canals that connected to a pool at the room’s center with four bridges crossing over and meeting in the center as well. One side of the room, the one currently behind her, led to the Ragged Flagon, the left side led to the Guild’s secret entrance, the right side led to the training room, and straight ahead was Mercer’s desk, the Guild’s vault just behind it.

Mercer stood in the middle of the bridges, arms crossed and scowling as he spoke in a rather irritated voice. “This had better not be another waste of the Guild’s resources, Brynjolf.”

Brynjolf flashed a charming smile, but Vivienne could see the worry in his eyes. “Mercer, meet our newest recruit, Vivienne.”

Vivienne opened her mouth to speak, but hadn’t so much as uttered a syllable when Mercer turned on her, glaring coldly at her as if she had already offended him in some way. “Before we continue, I want to make one thing perfectly clear: if you play by the rules, you walk away rich. You break the rules, and you lose your share. No debates, no discussion. You do what we say, _when_ we say. Do I make myself perfectly clear?”

Vivienne crossed her arms in annoyance, her dragon growling lowly in annoyance at the way she was being treated, but said nothing, and nodded. ‘Yes, I understand.”

“Good. Then I think it’s time we put your expertise to the test.”

Brynjolf seemed to pale, and took a small step forward, somewhat shielding Vivienne from Mercer. “Wait a moment, you’re not talking about Goldenglow, are you? Even our little Vex couldn’t get in.”

Mercer was indeed talking about Goldenglow, and within the hour, Vivienne had gathered all necessary information on the job and set out. Apparently Goldenglow was a bee farm, and the owner, Aringoth, had decided to stop paying Maven her share of the profits. Aringoth had hired mercenaries to watch the estate, and to keep him safe from both the Thieves Guild and the Brotherhood.

And so, Vivienne waited in Lake Honrich, concealed by the black of night, and watched the mercenaries walk about the island on their patrols. Once she knew her path was good and clear, she pulled herself from the freezing water, teeth chattering softly from the overwhelming cold, the leather Guild armour clinging in uncomfortable ways, and crept around the islands until she had clear view of the hives, three of which she needed to burn. Still creeping, she moved behind one of the hives and summoned a small flame in her hand, one she knew wouldn’t draw too much attention to what she was doing, and carefully lit three hives on fire. The reaction was instant; the sudden flames and smoke attracted the mercenaries to the hives, and while they busied themselves with finding whoever had lit them, Vivienne slipped away unnoticed in the shadows, and picked the lock to the manor.

It was almost as dark inside as it was outside, and Vivienne found herself squinting to make out anything in the house, but she somehow managed well enough by the light of the moon, which drifted in through the windows and gave some illumination to the house. Moving silently, she took down any mercenaries that crossed her path using her twin daggers, and gently laid their bodies on the floor so that the noise wouldn’t attract others to where she was. Reaching the doors to Aringoth’s room, Vivienne was quite pleased to find that he was sleeping, completely unaware that she had broken in. Moving softly on the balls of her feet, she stopped at the side of his bed and carefully reached into his pocket, being extra careful so as to not wake him. Once she had obtained the key to his safe, she made to leave for the basement when something caught her eye; a little golden bee statue. Remembering what Delvin had said in reference to paying handsomely for any rare oddity she might find, Vivienne scooped it into her bag, and went down to the basement where two mercenaries stood with their backs turned to her.

While it had been relatively easy to take down her previous adversaries, it would be difficult to take out both mercenaries without alerting the other to her presence. Getting close was out of the question, so she threw a dagger at the man wielding the greatsword, hitting him in the back and instantly killing him as she rolled out of sight, silently praying to Akatosh that she hadn’t been seen. The other man drew his sword and walked slowly past her, unaware that she was hiding behind him. Vivienne muttered a prayer of thanks to Akatosh and lunged at him, plunging her dagger into his throat, grimacing as thick, sticky, hot blood poured over her hand and ran down her arm. Tonilla was going to kill her for getting the armour dirty this quickly. Despite how slick the hilt of her dagger had become, she wrenched it free with a soft squelch, and retrieved her other dagger from the man’s back, pleased it wasn’t covered in blood as well.

 Vivienne was happy to find that no mercenaries guarded the actual safe, and using the key from Aringoth, she opened it and quickly emptied it of it’s contents, glad to find several large bags of gold and a sealed letter, both of which she hoped was more than enough to appease Mercer. Moving just as silently as before, she opened a hatch that led to a small series of tunnels that would open outside the manor, and slipped away into the night, returning to the Cistern.

 “You look like death.” Delvin remarked quietly as he sat next to Vivienne’s bed and began to bandage the claw marks on the upper part of her arm.

 The journey back to Riften would’ve gone perfectly if only it weren’t for the bear. The fight wasn’t as long as it was strenuous, and while she had survived with her life and limbs still intact, she had received a nasty cut to her arm, one that burned like Oblivion whenever she applied mead to kill infection, and retreated to her bed in the Cistern, quietly cleaning it while the others slept.

 Vivienne tried to smile as he tended her arm, but it came out more as a grimace instead. “Goldenglow was easier than everyone made it out to be, and I would’ve come back with nary a scratch if it weren’t for the bear I ran into. Daggers don’t work so well against them.”

 “Then you need to be more careful than that, girlie.” Delvin scolded softly as he booped her nose and pulled away.

 Vivienne wrinkled her nose and playfully made a face at him, and then remembered the statue she had taken, and fished it out of her bag, holding it up for him to see. “How much will you give me for this?”

 “Charging your old man, are you?” He said with a chuckled. “It just so happens I’ve been looking for this little beauty. You find anymore like it, and ill happily take it off your hands.” Delvin said in reply to her question, pressing a heavy coin purse in her hands that may or may not have contained more gold than he would’ve given to any other guild member. “Before I forget, Brynjolf is having a drink in the Flagon, so you’d best take him what you took from Goldenglow so he don’ get too impatient.”

 Vivienne sighed softly and rolled her eyes. _No rest for the weary, huh?_ Inwardly groaning as she stood, she walked into the Flagon and scanned the room a moment before her eyes fell on Brynjolf’s form, and she took a moment to appreciate the way the candle light seemed to make his hair blaze like fire before approaching him from behind, tapping his shoulder lightly as she took notice of the other occupants of the Flagon. Tonilla had already gone to bed, Dirge stood guard at the entrance as always, Vex was seated at her usual table and nursing a bottle of mead while she went over important pieces of documents, and Vekel still tended the bar.

 Feeling the soft tap, Brynjolf turned and smiled to her, relieved to see that she was still well and alive. “Glad to see you back in one piece, lass. I take it the job went well?”

 “It did. This is all I found in the safe.” Vivienne handed Brynjolf the letter and purses as she sat down across from him, waiting mostly for her cut of the deal, but also out of curiosity as to what the letter said. However, she ended up regretting her decision to stay when Brynjolf had actually read the letter, his face a mixture of shock and outrage. “Aringoth sold Goldenglow! What was he thinking?”

 Vivienne leaned over to read the letter and, sure enough, he had sold the estate to some mysterious person, the letter giving them nothing but a strange little symbol to go by. She shrugged lightly, “He must’ve thought it was better than dealing with Maven. Poor soul has to face her wrath now.”

 Brynjolf nodded in agreement as he took out her payment and handed it to her. “I need to show this to Mercer. Here’s your cut.”

 Vivienne took her cut happily, thinking silently to herself that maybe she could afford a new spell tome from the court wizard, when Brynjolf reached out and gently grabbed her injured arm, a frown playing his lips, and made her turn around to him again. “What happened to your arm?”

 Vivienne blinked for a moment, a bit surprised that he would notice, let alone ask. It was expected that Delvin would ask, he was her father, and even if he hadn’t seen her since she was six, it was natural for him to worry over her well being, but for Brynjolf to ask was rather shocking indeed. At first she thought he may have asked because she was his protégé, and because his job depended on her succeeding and being the best of the best, but when she looked into his eyes, she saw only genuine worry and concern that had nothing to do with reputation, and found herself even more confused.

 “A bear attacked me on my way back. I just have a scratch on my arm, nothing more.” Her answer was slow and quiet, as if afraid the answer would turn his concern to anger for her being so careless.

 Instead, Brynjolf nodded and looked over her moment, looking for any other injury she may have been hiding for some reason, and when he found none, his hand glided down to hers and gently rubbed over her knuckles as he stood, and then pulled away after a moment, smiling softly at her. “Alright then, lass. Be careful, and rest for a few days.”

 Vivienne nodded slowly and watched his back as he retreated from the Flagon and into the Cistern. After a few more moments of quiet shock, she finally forced herself to move again when Vex, in an amused tone, asked if she planned to stand there all night, and returned to the Cistern as well, ignoring what was obviously Brynjolf’s figure as she gently laid on her back and fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I forgot to say that I do not own anything save my OC Vivienne. Thank you, and please let me know what you think of the story.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vivienne and Brynjolf are finally on an adventure! Yay~
> 
> Again, if you find any errors, please let me know and please feel free to leave a comment. Thanks!

“Shor’s balls! What the hell?” Vivienne yelled as she was startled from her peaceful sleeping by a rather heavy weight falling on top of her, that weight being a younger guild member named Rune, who had accidentally tripped and fallen onto her in a sleepy daze. Turning a bright shade of red, he hastily pushed himself and apologized profusely for crushing and waking her, and when he saw the spots of red appear on her bandaged arm, apologized even more for reopening her wound, and scurried away before she really had the chance to be angry with him.

Vivienne sighed softly and sat up, knowing full well there was no way she was going to resume sleeping after such a rude awakening, and stretched slightly, feeling the sharp stab in her arm when she stretched too much and pulled the wound, making it bleed more than it already was. _Damn bear._ She thought to herself as she looked around the Cistern, surprised to see nearly every guild member staring at her for some unknown reason until she remembered that Mercer had sent her on the Goldenglow job before she had the time to introduce herself to any of the members, and now her first impression would always be her yelling obscenities at Rune for crushing her awake. What a wonderful way to start the day. Silently cursing their Guild Master, Vivienne got out of bed and headed to the Flagon for breakfast, a small healing potion in her hand that she planned to drink once she had some real food in her, otherwise she would end up throwing the potion back up _and_ make herself look like even more of a fool.

Sitting across from Delvin, she waved to Vekel and asked for something to eat, having to wait only a few minutes before he brought her a plate of sausage and eggs, which she promptly wolfed down after paying for the meal.

“You’re acting like you ‘aven’t eaten in days.” Delvin said with a soft chuckle as he sipped his own mug of mead. The sun was barely up and he was already drinking.

Vivienne swallowed a bite and looked up, giving a look she had been told could kill dragons if looks could. “I finished Goldenglow and got attacked by a fucking bear. I think I deserve a moment of peace and a well cooked meal for my time.”

Delvin laughed heartily at her fire and nodded, allowing her to eat peacefully so long as she promised to drank that healing potion of hers, otherwise he would have Tonilla sew her arm back together. Having agreed, Vivienne enjoyed the peaceful quietness of her meal, savoring every bite of the meal until Brynjolf joined them. While she had no problems being around Brynjolf, she had noticed that after the gentle concern he had shown for her the previous night, her stomach knotted painfully when around him, especially so when he spoke or paid any attention to her whatsoever, which was all very perplexing to her as she hadn’t any idea as to why it did that.

She thought it would only have lasted during last night, since that was the whole reason why she found her stomach twisting in uncomfortable ways, but when he sat down with them and talked to Delvin about one job or another, she noticed his gaze frequently flitted over to her, and every time it did, her stomach clenched more, leaving her feeling awkward and uncomfortable in his presence, and eventually tuned them out so she could continue eating her breakfast instead of agonizing over the strange feeling, and it worked well enough for a little while until she had been directly spoken to, and since she had tuned the world out, remained unaware of them until Brynjolf suddenly grabbed her arm, making her jump as he suddenly caught her attention.

“You alright there, lass?” He asked, the same concern from the previous night returning to his eyes.

Shaking off the embarrassment she felt, Vivienne digested the figurative butterflies in her stomach and nodded. “Just fine. I didn’t sleep well so I must’ve spaced out for a moment there.”

Brynjolf nodded in understand and relaxed, removing his hand from her arm with a smile. “I was saying that Maven wants to speak with you.”

Vivienne nearly choked on her mead; while she could handle Mercer and his constant ray of pitch-black attitude well enough, Maven was another story, as she held Riften in her pocket, and was not one to be trifled with.

“Aye, lass. I’m sure you’ll be fine.” Brynjolf gripped her arm again, though this time in a reassuring manner.

Smiling gratefully for the support, she stood, downed her healing potion, and pulled her hood up before entering the Cistern again. Most of the members were milling about lazily, which disappointed Vivienne to no end. They were already struggling to keep the Guild on its feet, the least they could is try to work jobs and help bring in coin instead of sitting around and doing nothing. The more annoyed Vivienne became, the more she noticed the familiar tickle of her Thu’um in the back of her throat and decided to avoid speaking to any of the members, lest she end up in trouble for shouting them across the room, and climbed the ladder to the Guild’s secret entrance, wincing at the earsplitting sound of metal scraping on metal when she pulled the chain and opened the entrance.

“You like her, don’t you?” Delvin asked as he took a long drink from his mug.

Brynjolf flushed softly from embarrassment at the question. Of course he didn’t _like_ her they had only just met. There was no denying that he found her quite attractive, or that he appreciated the way the Guild armour clung to her figure and gave him a good idea of how curvaceous she was, and yes, after Goldenglow he had gained respect for her and her skill as a thief, but when it came to questioning whether or not her like, the idea was simply ludicrous.

He shook his head and sipped his own mug. “I respect her skill, but as to liking her in that manner, I’d have to say no, I don’t.”

Delvin smirked slightly behind his mug, knowing full well when Brynjolf was lying. It may not have been romantic feelings he felt for Vivienne, but he certainly desired her, if only for a one-night stand. He sat quietly for a moment and carefully thought over his next words. “Maven’s obviously got a job for her, and seeing as how she’s still tired from the strain of the last one, I’m worried for her. Don’t suppose you’d be willing to tag along and watch her back for me?”

_Go with her…_ Brynjolf decided that he quite liked the sound of that, and with a smile, readily agreed to it and stood, finishing his mug of ale before going to his private quarters in the Cistern to pack his bag and wait by the stables for her, unaware that he had just accidentally started a betting pool for when he and Vivienne would finally hook up.

The Bee N’ Barb was as noisy as usual, the only difference being the way Keerva glowered at Vivienne as she walked in, clearly still upset at being forced to hand over the money she owed the Guild. Normally Vivienne would’ve taken the time to stop and apologize, explain that business is business, and hopefully talk her way back into Keerva’s good graces, but it was Maven waiting for her, not some cowardly client that would shake and stutter with every syllable he spoke. Swallowing her nervousness, Vivienne walked confidentially upstairs to where she had been told Maven was waiting, and sat across from her, nodding curtly as she sat down.

“So you’re the one. Hmm. You don’t look very impressive.” Maven’s bored voice drawled out clearly unamused by her appearance, and only fueling Vivienne’s annoyance even more.

“How about we skip the conversation?” She snapped, not really meaning to, but not actually regretting it either.

Maven’s eyes seemed to shine for a moment, and she sat up straighter, actually taking her serious now. “You’re a real firebrand, aren’t you? It’s about time Brynjolf sent me someone with business sense. I was beginning to think he was running a beggar’s guild down there.”

Vivienne crossed her arms and raised a brow. “You have no faith in the Guild?”

'Faith? I don’t have _faith_ in anyone.” She replied with a scoff. “All I care about is cause and effect. Did the job get done and was it done correctly. There’s no gray area.”

Vivienne nodded, able to understand the reasoning behind it. “Where do I begin?”

“Head to the Bannered Mare and look for Mallus Maccius. He’ll fill you in on all the details.”

Nodding again, Vivienne stood and turned, preparing to leave, when Maven stopped her with a question. “What’s your name?”

“Vivienne Mallory.”

“One more time, _Vivienne_ , in case I wasn’t clear; you butcher this job, and you’ll be sorry.”

Had that come from anyone else, Vivienne would have rolled her eyes or scoffed, maybe even shown them that she wasn’t one to be threatened, but this was Maven Black-Briar, the most influential woman in Riften, and the only reason the Guild was still clinging to life. Screwing up with her wasn’t an option. Swallowing her pride, Vivienne muttered a _yes ma’am_ , and went down to the stables to retrieve her horse to take her to Whiterun, and found Brynjolf waiting for her.

Hands on hips, she raised a brow at him in question. “Any reason you’re here waiting on me?”

Brynjolf chuckled, dare she say, sheepishly, and rubbed the back of his neck. “I was wondering if you might enjoy a bit of company this time, considering your arm is still hurt.”

Smiling warmly, Vivienne mounted her horse, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “I would love company on my trip, I just hope you can keep up.”

Grinning, she spurred her horse onward, the white mare rearing as she took off down the cobbled road, mane flowing behind her and tickling the end of Vivienne’s nose, and adding to her laughter as she heard a slew of curses from behind her, Brynjolf having rushed to mount his own to steed to race after her in a desperate attempt to not be left behind. 


	4. Chapter 4

It would take a day and a half to reach Whiterun, and though she knew that nothing would happen between her and Brynjolf, they had just met after all, Vivienne eagerly looked forward to the time she would spend with Brynjolf. The air around them was cool and damp from a recent storm that had just gone through the Rift. The ground was muddy, and they were forced to keep their horses moving at a slow gait because of random puddles of water or mud that happened upon the road, neither one fond of arriving at their destination soaked in mud. Though the journey had started with a bit of playful banter, they now rode in a comfortable silence, the occasional bird song, and soft clopping of hooves the only thing to invade it. Despite owning her own horse, Vivienne seldom rode; preferring to walk or hire a carriage, and found that she had trouble actually staying upright in the saddle, and quickly grew sore from the strain.

“You alright there, lass? You seem to be having trouble there?” Brynjolf’s tone and the smirk he wore were enough to tell Vivienne that it was very apparent she couldn’t ride.

She sighed. “Yes, I just don’t ride often enough to go on long trips like this.”

Brynjolf nodded, and turned his gaze back to the road ahead. “Understandable. Horses aren’t common in our line of work.” After that, they were silent again.

It was late when they finally decided to stop and rest for the evening, more than halfway to Whiterun, and the sun had already descended below the horizon, the first of the stars just beginning to appear. The night air was far colder than the day had been, and every breath they took was illuminated by wisps of white fog. Crickets chirped quietly, and there was the occasional howl, or owl hoot, but the evening seemed just as quiet and peaceful as their day had been, which was rare indeed, as Vivienne was quite accustomed to hearing the distant roar of a dragon, and even saw puffs of fire on the horizon, telling her exactly where to avoid so she didn’t have to confront the beast.

Brynjolf dismounted his horse and began collecting wood for a fire, carelessly tossing his pack to the side when he did, and once the wood and stones had been collected, he began building a fire for the night. Vivienne, rolling her eyes at his eagerness to have a fire, dismounted her own horse and took the reigns for both steeds, leading them to a sturdy enough tree that they couldn’t pull over, and tied them to it. Once the horses were secure, she took the bedrolls from the saddles and spread them near to the fire, and set both their packs near their beds before sitting in front of the welcoming fire Brynjolf had built, happily soaking up the warmth since she didn’t have his Nordic blood. Brynjolf sat back with her and dug around in his pack for a moment until he found what he was looking for, and pulled out to rolls of bread, and a decent amount of dried meat, handing her a portion to eat.

While they ate, Vivienne let her mind wander freely. Here she was, the newest member of the Guild, traveling with the Guild’s second, a man that practically all of Riften’s women, herself included, wanted in their beds, and already most of their trip had been spent in silence. A comfortable silence, but it was still silence. When she agreed to let Brynjolf tag along, she had meant to actually talk to him, to strike up a conversation and get to know him a little better, but every time she attempt to speak failed when the proverbial butterflies began to flutter in her stomach, and even though she tried, she couldn’t find a way to move past them and actually begin a conversation.

As she ripped of a piece of meat and stuffed it in her mouth, she began wondering what he must think of her, for he must have thought something to request accompanying her to Whiterun. Then again, he could simply have tagged along to ensure the job was done, done correctly, and without her getting injured, all while keeping Maven happy and sated.

“Why didn’t you grow up in the Guild?” Brynjolf’s voice cut through the silence like a knife as he startled her out of her thoughts, and not for the first time since meeting him, she wondered where he had gained such an alluring accent.

It took her a moment to process his question, and when she did, she sighed and looked away. “ When I was about six, my mother discovered that Delvin was a member of the Thieves Guild. She didn’t like it, and when she knew he had no intentions of pulling away, she took me and left for Cyrodiil. It was nice enough, but once I came of age she began trying to marry me off to whatever rich suitor came calling.”

Brynjolf looked shocked at that, angry even, and turned to stare at the fire, hands idly playing with a lock pick. “How did you come to be a thief?”

Vivienne smiled and shook her head. “A question for a question. How did you come to join the Guild?”

Brynjolf chuckled softly, a warm look coming over him. “Gallus, Mercer’s predecessor, caught me with my hand buried in his pocket.”

Vivienne choked on the bread and stared at him incredulously. “You tried to steal from Gallus? Did you have a death wish or something?”

Despite not having grown up in the Guild like Vex and Brynjolf, Delvin had brought Vivienne to the Flagon a number of times when her mother was too preoccupied to watch over her, and she had grown to know most of the members, Gallus included, and even had faint memories of when Mercer himself was a new recruit.

Brynjolf laughed deeply, a sound that was infectious and soon had Vivienne laughing with him. “I was only a boy, hadn’t seen more than ten winters, and my parents had died the year before. I was broke and in need of coin for food. I had learned that I could take practically anything out of a person’s pockets if my tough was light enough, and by the time Gallus found me, I was a fair pickpocket, and thought I’d get away with it.”

Vivienne smiled softly; it was just like Gallus to bring in strays off the street and train them properly. Reaching in her bag, she pulled out a bottle of ale she had swiped from the Flagon and uncorked it, taking a long drink before offering the bottle to Brynjolf, who took it gratefully.

“You asked how I became a thief. When I was still living in Riften, Delvin often took me into the training room and taught me how to handle lock picks, and even had me pick his pocket for practice. The better I was, the more sweet rolls he gave me when mother wasn’t looking. After mother and I left, I began to miss the time spent with him in the Cistern, so I found some picks and continued practicing myself. I’d pick whatever lock I could find, and when I ran out of those, I picked pockets to find more picks or something that could buy me more. After a while the Guild in Cyrodiil caught wind of what an excellent thief I had become, and recruited me.”

Brynjolf nodded; he had heard of the Guild’s branch in Cyrodiil, but hadn’t actually given much thought to it before now. Taking a long drink from the offered bottle, he settled back and waited for her next question, only then noticing the way she kept rolling her shoulders in vain attempts to loosen them.

“Shoulders bothering you, lass?”

“My shoulders and back are killing me! It’s going to be months before I ride another horse.” She huffed slightly and tried to rub them herself, but it was difficult to reach and rub in all the right places. Before she was actually aware of what was happening, warmth suddenly enveloped her as Brynjolf sat behind her, gently moving her hands away so he could work the knots out for her.

“I don’t suppose you’re wearing a shirt under this?”

“Of course I am!” She remarked, cheeks burning as a blush steadily spread across them.

Brynjolf’s chuckle vibrated through her, and only made her blush more over the current situation as he carefully peeled the Guild cuirass off her, laying it to the side. His hands began to slowly work across her back and shoulders, gently kneading the flesh and muscles as the tension began to melt away. His breath lightly tickled her ear, and even ghosted across her neck whenever he leaned in to rub lower down her back, making cold chills run down her spine despite the warmth he radiated. Whenever he came across a particularly sore spot, she would make soft mewls of pleasure and happiness, causing Brynjolf to blush as well. With her pain eradicated and muscles relaxed, Brynjolf moved over and sat beside her again, the awkward silence returning once more.

“What happened to Gallus?”

Vivienne had been wondering about it for days, and though the moment had been nice, and the topic was a painful one, she needed to ask. Whatever had happened to him was what changed the Guild and dragged it down to the bring of destruction, and though she knew, or at least hoped, Mercer was doing his best his best to keep the Guild alive, he would never do as good a job as Gallus did, and if someone with a better sense on how to run a business, the Guild may yet survive.

Brynjolf sighed deeply and rolled the bottle in his hands. “Gallus was murdered by Karliah.”

Vivienne froze. _Gallus was murdered?_ That didn’t make a lick of sense. Gallus had been a wonderful Guild Master, one of the best in Tamriel, there shouldn’t have been any reason that someone wanted him killed, unless it was one of his marks, but Brynjolf had said that Karliah had killed him, which was equally confusing. Vivienne remembered the Dunmer thief well, and if memory served her, she and Gallus were smitten with each other even planning marriage and a life together, so how could the woman who always had a sweet to give to Vivienne have killed the man she loved?

“Why?” Was all she managed to choke out past the lump in her throat, eyes burning as tears threatened to spill forth.

Brynjolf shrugged. “All I know is that Gallus, Mercer, and Karliah left for a place called Snow Veil Sanctum one day, and only Mercer returned, telling everyone how Karliah had killed Gallus and then fled when he tried to intervene.”

Vivienne let the sink in; Mercer was the only one who knew what happened at Snow Veil that day, save Karliah of course, and he was the one claiming Karliah killed Gallus, and then took over at Guild Master after the incident. Something about the situation didn’t feel right, but any thoughts on the matter dispersed rather quickly when a cold gust of air began tugging at her ponytail, making her shiver and turn to the fire again, seeking its warmth.

Brynjolf caught the shiver in the corner of his eye, and though the moment had just turned from a serious, he smiled softly. Reaching over, he gently wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her in, not saying a word to her, and brought her to lay on his bedroll beside him, taking her own roll and draped it over her like a blanket so she didn’t freeze in the night, facing the fire with his arm wrapped protectively around her waist.

“You go on to sleep, lass. I’ll keep watch.” His spoke softly, his chest humming with every word and gently lulling her into a sense of comfort. Though she blushed and found it improper for his arm to be wrapped around her the way it was, she rested her head against his other arm, smiling sleepily to herself as she slowly drifted off.


	5. Chapter 5

_Creaking wheels and clopping hooves were the first things Vivienne was aware of as she regained consciousness in the back of a wagon bound for Helgen. Sunlight blurred her vision as she blinked her eyes open and she was faintly aware of a man speaking to her, only concerned with remembering how she ended up in this situation. The fog began to clear from her mind and she began to remember again. Her mother had arranged a marriage with a man she hadn't even met and expected her daughter to remain as faithful as ever. Vivienne remembered packing while her mother slept, and going to the border of Cyrodil, only to get knocked out by an Imperial Soldier that assumed she was a Stormcloak._

_The wagon suddenly came to a halt and jarred Vivienne from her thoughts. They were in Helgen now. Aside from the soldiers, Imperial and Stormcloak both, there were villagers gathered to watch the execution of the Stormcloaks, and their leader, Ulfric Stormcloak. Moving carefully, Vivienne climbed out of the wagon and patiently waited for her name to be called, and when it wasn't, one of the soldiers called her forward._

_The man was a Nord and it was quiet obvious that he was bored with his job, even his voice was monotone, "Who are you?"_

_"Vivienne Mallory."_

_The soldier looked to the commanding officer next to him, "What should I do, Captain? She's not on the list."_

_"She goes to the block."_

_For some reason Vivienne didn't protest, she didn't even feel fear, and she was about to die. The General was berating Ulfric, but Vivienne couldn't care less. Her meaningless life was about to end, though no fear took root in her, only peace in knowing she wouldn't struggle to live anymore._

_"Next the Breton!"_

_The Imperial Captain's voice cut through her thoughts and her feet carried her to the chopping block, and she she willing knelt before it, and laid her head upon it. The Headsman raised his axe, preparing to bring end her life, when the roar of a dragon washed over them, and the sun was blotted out by the beast itself._

_The next few minutes were a blur of fire, screaming, and death. A Stormcloak, Ralof she later learned, led her through the dragon's carnage, only stopping at her screaming._

Vivienne's eyes flashed open and she took a shape intake of breath upon waking from her nightmare. The fire was barely burning anymore so she threw a few branches on it to revive the embers. As she laid back down, she felt an unfamiliar weight and warmth press against her. It was only after a moment of confusion that she realised it was Brynjolf pressed against her, his arm still wrapped around her. Smiling softly, she settled against him and fell asleep, her sleep void of any dreaming.

The first thing Brynjolf became aware of was lavender, strange since it wasn't abundant in the Rift, only after opening his eyes did he realise it was Vivienne's hair that smelled like lavender. The lass was still curled into his side, fitting perfectly against him, keeping him warm despite the cold air of Hearthfire. It was early morning, and though he desperately tried, Brynjolf could not fall asleep. Sighing, he laid still and simply listened, at first meaning to listen to birdsong, but after only a few moments he began to listen to Vivienne's breathing, and focus on the beat of her heart. She was close enough the he could see details he hadn't noticed before: pale freckles on her cheeks, thick eyelashes, and small wisps of hair where it had begun to grow. The long he stared, the more he admired her beauty, and it was not long before he began to card a hand through her ponytail, gently brushing out any snags he came across.

He hardly noticed when Vivienne awoke, and barely had time to register the colouring of her cheeks before she sat up and pulled away from him, stretching the sleep from her limbs before she left to tend the horses. As he watched her go, Brynjolf's heart sank and he silently cursed himself as he packed up their bedrolls. He had scared her, a reasonable reaction when waking to a stranger holding you and playing with your hair. He would be lucky enough if she even decided to talk to him again, let alone allow him to travel with her. What he didn't know is that his actions only made Vivienne flustered and she did what came first in mind; check on the horses. The horses were perfectly fine and they had eaten plenty from the shrubs around them, so it was awkwardly that she joined Brynjolf for a quick breakfast.

"Did you sleep well?" Brynjolf's voice was quiet and Vivienne may have missed it if she had not been listening for him to say something, anything to ensure her that things were fine between them.

Smiling softly, she nodded, "Well enough. You?"

"I slept perfectly fine, thank you."

Brynjolf stood and strapped his bag to his saddle, "We need to get going so we can make time on our trip."

Vivienne nodded and copied his actions before mounting her own steed, and following him to Whiterun.

Whiterun was just as beautiful as Vivienne remembered: rolling hills of soft grass, abundant game and forestry, and open plains stretching as far as the eye can see. The air was warmer in Whiterun and the sun shone brightly on them as they rode into the stables.

"Where are we meant to meat Maccius? Brynjolf asked as they passed through the gates.

"Maven said he would be waiting in the Bannered Mare, so I assume we head there."

As usual there were people moving about Whiterun carrying things they had either bought or planned to sell. The sound of a hammer and the voices of vendors rang clear through the air, children ran around the streets and laughed while playing their games, and created an all-round peaceful environment. Vivienne smiled as she climbed the steps to the Bannered Mare and pushed the door open, getting bombarded with the smell of ale, food, and the noise of the bard who should've stayed at the College until he could actually sing.

Vivienne looked around for a moment when she spotted a man sitting in the corner and guessed it to be Maccius. She silently approached and sat across from him, smelling the strong scent of ale on his clothes and wishing he had thought to bathe first.

"Can't a man drink in peace?" He complained, sending a somewhat annoyed look at Vivienne.

"Maven said you were expecting us." Brynjolf remarked, arms crossed and standing just behind Vivienne.

Maccius raised a brow in question and looked at Brynjolf a moment before turning his gaze to Vivienne, nearly making her squirm in her seat. Now that he realised they were there to do business, Maccius made no effort to hide the lustful way he studied her form. Even though he hadn't touched her every part of her felt violated, and she wished she could run off and hide somewhere. Sudden weight on her shoulder made her turn to face Brynjolf, who's jaw was tightly clenched and eyes narrowed at the man before her.

"Vivienne will you please go wait outside?" Brynjolf's tone was cold, and Vivienne nearly flinched from the harshness, but knew it wasn't meant for her. Nodding, she stood and left the tavern, choosing to walk around the market while she waited.

Maccius watched as Vivienne left, and smirked up at Brynjolf, too foolish to notice the thinly veiled murder in his eyes.

"She's a fine piece of ass, isn't she?" Maccius had barely sipped his lead when Brynjolf hoisted him by the collar of his shirt, roughly shoving him into the wall.

"If you ever look at her like that again, I will kill you slowly and painfully."

Maccius nearly whimpered an apology and told Brynjof how the job was to be done. Sabjorn, owner of Honningbrew Meadery, was having problems with Venomfog Skeevers and needed someone to put poison in their nest. Maccius instructed to put half in the brewing vat labeled "Honningbrew Reserve" because the commander of the guards was going to taste the mead later and once he realised it was poisoned he would lock up Sabjorn and Maccius would get ownership of the Meadery. Now that he had all the details, Brynjolf left the tavern and went looking for Vivienne, finding her chatting with a vendor, and took her to the Meadery so they could complete their job.

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry it took me so long to put this up! I've had a bit of writer's block and as a result, the chapter is a bit short. I'll hopefully have something much longer the next time I post.

Vivienne hated skeevers, they were hard to sneak past, carried diseases, and were a general pain in the ass. Vivienne had barely opened the door to Honningbrew Meadery when Sabjorn began yelling about his skeever problem. She didn't care much for the man's attitude but pretended to be nice long enough to get five hundred septims before she and Brynjolf left to take care of the skeever problem.   
It had started out easy enough, there were a few traps set out for the Venomfog skeevers, and they ran across few of those.

Vivienne smiled at their luck and walked easily through the tunnels beneath the meadery, and let her thoughts wander a bit. It had been six months to the day since she had been in Whiterun, and she found herself wondering what had become of Arianna and Artemis, two women she had come to think of as sisters after their shared ordeal at Helgen.

A hand tightly gripped on her shoulder and the force of being pulled back brought Vivienne out of her thoughts as she was thrown to the ground, and Brynjolf stepped over her to kill the Frostbite spider she had nearly walked into. Blushing darkly, she stood and brushed the dirt from her armour, and waited for the scolding she was bound to get.

Sure enough, Brynjolf turned on her, anger evident in his eyes, but softened seeing her head hung in shame, and shoulders slack. Instead of yelling, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and briefly hugged her. "You need to pay better attention, lass. I almost lost you to a spider, not a very memorable end if you ask me."

Vivienne smiled softly and nodded, leading once more. "I don't know. Death by spider might be pretty memorable."

Brynjolf chuckled and shook his head, "Nothing ever dampens your spirit, does it, lass?"

She meant to answer, but caught movement from the corner of her eye and barely registered a lightning spell being cast at her before her muscles seized up and she dropped to the ground and screamed. Apparently, Maccius had forgotten to mention that a lunatic mage was living beneath the meadery.

Brynjolf charged the man, daggers drawn, and easily dodged the spells sent his way, before slitting the man's throat, blood spraying onto his hands and face. The kill was quick an easy, and Brynjolf was soon by her side, picking her up and cradling her in his arms, seemingly unaware of his movements at the moment.

"Are you alright, lass?" His emerald eyes were filled with concern and once again Vivienne wondered about him.

"I'm fine, Brynjolf. Just a bit dazed." She answered, slowly pulling herself from him to stand, already missing his warmth.

Nodding, Brynjolf walked over to where the skeever nest was and dumped half the poison in it. "Can you walk, lass, or do I have to carry you?"

As tempting as that sounded, Vivienne shook her head and declined his offer, and continued down the tunnel until they reached the door leading to where the brewing vats were in. The room was stuff and hot and Vivienne was glad they didn't have to stay long. After finding the vat labeled 'Honningbrew Reserve', Vivienne dumped the rest of the poison in and followed Brynjolf out the door and back to where Sabjorn waited.

It was quiet amusing watching Sabjorn squirm as he was hauled off to Dragonsreach, but even more amusing was the way Maccius squirmed every time Brynjolf so much as glanced at him. Unlike earlier he kept his head down and used a respectful tone when handing Vivienne the key to Sabjorn's office. She smiled softly knowing Brynjolf was the reason his attitude has changed.

Once upstairs the two thieves went to work clearing out the office. There were several heavy coin purses and a Honningbrew Decanter that Vivienne snagged for Delvin. Turning to leave the empty room, a bit of paper caught in the corner of her eye, and she turned back and retrieved the letter from where it had fallen onto the floor, and her breath caught when he read it.

The letter was a bit vague but it was clear that whoever wrote it wanted to buy Honningbrew Meadery from Sabjorn, but what worried Vivienne was that instead of being signed with a name, all that was there was a strange symbol just like the one from Goldenglow. _Brynjolf is not going to like this._ Sighing, Vivienne handed the letter to Brynjolf and watched the confusion and anger unfold on his face.

"Apparently someone is trying to drive a wedge between us and Maven."

Vivienne sighed with a nod, "It appears that way. Come on, we need to take this back to Mercer. Hopefully he won't be too upset."

Brynjolf nodded grimly and followed her out the door casting a quick glare at Maccius before the two thieves began their journey back to Riften.


	7. Chapter Seven

Vivienne winced slightly at the unmistakable sound of Mercer’s yelling, Brynjolf must have told him what they discovered while on the Honningbrew job. She and Brynjolf had returned to Riften in the wee hours of the morning, and had barely slept more than five hours when Mercer came barging into the Cistern, demanding the details of the Honningbrew job so he could report to Maven. Wanting to save her from Mercer’s wrath and give her chance to sleep longer, Brynjolf sent Vivienne into the Flagon, claiming he wanted to speak with Mercer privately on the matter. An hour later, after many failed attempts to go back to sleep, Vivienne found herself seated at a table with Delvin, barely managing to stay awake as she halfheartedly ate breakfast.

 “You should get some sleep if you’re that tired, Vivi.” Delvin remarked softly as he sipped his ale. It was barely nine in the morning and he was already drinking.

 Vivienne smiled softly, warmed by his concern for her well-being and stuck her tongue out in a jesting manner before taking another bite of sausage. “Mercer will probably have my hide if he catches me sleeping instead of working like everyone else, despite the fact I only slept five hours after riding nonstop to get back.”

 Delvin sighed deeply into his mug, none too pleased that she was most likely right, but held his tongue and said nothing, a miracle Vivienne thanked Talos for. Delvin was her father, and she would never consider denying it, but after a lifetime of having no one to rely on, it was strange to be someone’s daughter, and even more so since he actually cared. She, once again, smiled softly at the thought. Even though it was strange, it was quite enjoyable to have someone care for you.

 Mercer’s yelling had quieted and practically vanished, save the lingering tension that was always left after he finished chewing someone out, and uncomfortable silence settled over them as they waited to see, or rather, hear, what happened next. It took a few minutes, but Brynjolf emerged from the Cistern, looking tired, but otherwise completely fine, not something one would expect after the previous bout of yelling. Vivienne offered him a smile when he looked her way, and when he moved to sit with her and Delvin, she scooted her chair to the side so that he could fit at the table with ease, settling in with his own plate of breakfast. He hadn’t returned her smile, but the usual light had returned to his eyes, and that was enough for the time being.

 The morning and breakfast passed quite peacefully. Delvin only proposed to Vex three times, Brynjolf managed to keep himself from drinking more than two ales, and Dirge, the rather ignorant guard at the Flagon’s entrance, had yet to make any idiotic comments. All in all, the morning was deemed rather laidback and peaceful in Vivienne’s mind. Of course, that also meant it wouldn’t last much longer. Just as Vivienne finished her breakfast and was preparing to take jobs from Delvin and Vex, Rune came into the Flagon and announced that Mercer wanted to see her. Not a comforting thought when she knew he was already upset.

 Sighing heavily and casting a worried glance to Brynjolf and Delvin, Vivienne stood and followed Rune back to the Cistern, not exactly sure why he insisted on escorting her, but at the same time grateful that she had someone else with her, even if only for a moment. Now standing in front of the door, she took a breath, waved Rune off to go eat breakfast, and walked inside, already prepared for whatever Mercer could possibly say to her.

 The Guild Master’s brow was furrowed in either concentration or frustration, Vivienne wasn’t quite sure which is was, as he stood over his desk and looked over different sheets of parchment, never looking up until Vivienne cleared her throat, and even then he only glanced at her before returning to his paperwork.

“Ah, there you are. I was wondering what was taking you so long.” Mercer’s voice drawled in an almost bored tone.

 Vivienne, choosing to ignore the snide comment, crossed her arms to keep from punching him. “You wanted to see me?”

 “The parchment you recovered mentions a Gajul-Lei. According to sources of mine, that’s an old alias used by one of our old contacts. His real name is Gulum-Ei. Slimy git. Gulum-Ei is our inside man at the East Empire Trading Company in Solitude.” Mercer paused a moment and finally sat down, his eyes never leaving the parchment. “I’m willing to bet he acted as a go-between for the sale of Goldenglow Estate and he can finger our buyer. I want you to go to Solitude and see if you can get out of him. If you need more details, talk to Brynjolf.”

 Vivienne nodded and waited to be dismissed, not wanting to anger Mercer further, as he had already chewed Brynjolf out over what they had recovered. She didn’t want to know what he did whenever it was something someone actually did to upset him. The way he spoke of Gulum-Ei made her curious, it sounded as if he wasn’t too fond of the lizard, and she began wondering what could have happened between them. Once dismissed, she decided to ask Brynjolf about it, and swiftly turned back towards the Flagon, hoping that he hadn’t taken a job for the day.

 “Going on another job already, lass? You’ve barely rested after the last one.” Brynjolf’s tone wasn’t a happy one, and already Vivienne was dreading having to tell him she was following Mercer’s orders. Even though she was fairly new to the Guild, Vivienne could tell that Brynjolf mothered all of the guild members, whether it was making sure they ate a good breakfast to patching them up after jobs, Brynjolf seemed to do it all.

 Sighing, she nodded and sat across from him, taking away his drink and getting a large drink before she returned it, feeling better now that the drink was in her system. “Mercer’s orders. Im heading to Solitude to-“

 Brynjolf cut her short, his eyes slightly narrowed in anger, and her only comfort was she knew he wasn’t angry with her, but Mercer. “You’re not going, lass. You need sleep and I’m not letting you risk passing out just because Mercer wants you to run another job. You can do it once you’ve had a day or two of rest.”

 His tone told her there was no point arguing. She was going to rest up and that was final. Blushing softly, she muttered about not needing someone to take care of her, which would’ve sent Brynjolf into a lecture of how important rest was, but a courier came up asking for her, and when she responded, he handed a letter to her and left, not wanting to stay in the Flagon any longer than he had to.

 Curious, Vivienne ripped the envelope open and pulled out the letter, her eyes scanning it quickly. She half expected another letter from Delphine, as she had been getting quite a few of those lately, but was pleasantly surprised to find it was from Maven and, after quickly scanning the brief letter, she learned that Maven had given her Honeyside house as a thank you gift for her work at Honningbrew Meadery. Smiling, she took the enclosed key from the envelope and held it up for Delvin and Brynjolf to see. “It seems I now own a fully furnished house.”

 Delvin chuckled deeply at the sentiment. “It seems ol’ Maven don’ want you to up and leave should Mercer get on your nerves.”

 “Aye. It’ll be a perfect place for you to stay and rest up before heading out for that job.” Brynjolf remarked, nodding in agreement with Delvin as he stood from the table and moved around to Vivienne, taking the bag that sat at her feet to carry it for her. “Come on, lass. You need more sleep and you won’t be getting it here.”

 Sighing softly, though still smiling slightly, Vivienne nodded and stood, giving Delvin an awkward side hug before she followed Brynjolf out of the Flagon, somewhat surprised that he had chosen to take the Ratway’s entrance to leave, but then again he did want to keep Mercer out of her hair. Unlike the first time she had come through, there were no lowlifes to fight and the wooden bridge she had lowered was still there waiting for them. As she crossed it, her mind wandered to old friend she hadn’t thought of in six months, since Helgen. As she slowly followed Brynjolf through the throng of early morning shoppers, her mind turned towards an old memory, and the friends she had made while escaping Helgen.

 Ouch. _Vivienne thought as she blinked her eyes open, her head throbbing with pain. She was faintly aware of the clopping of hooves and the turning of wheels, her body leaning limply against another as they shuddered from every bump in the road. Despite the searing headache and bleary vision, Vivienne managed to sit up and look around a bit as her vision slowly, but surely, returned to her._

_She was in the back of a wagon with two other women and a man. The man had strong features, golden hair, and blue and leather armour on, hands bound in front of him as he watched another wagon ahead of them. He seemed to be in his early twenties, though his face was hardened for someone so young. He seemed to be worried, understandable as they were being carted off to who knows where, and as his hands fidgeted with the binds around his wrists, Vivienne realize he was a Nord, a fact that should have been obvious given his size in both height and muscle. For a brief moment, he met her eyes and offered the barest of smiles before he returned to watching the wagon ahead of them. Turning, she could see other Nordic men and women in the carts ahead of them, though the one the was directly in front of them carried a man dressed in fine clothes and, in accompany to the binds around his hands, he was also gagged._ Soldiers. _She thought bitterly, remembering all too well the heartache they bore, and usually for a cause that was for nothing more than the ambition of a greedy king._

_The woman next to the soldier was a Bosmer, Vivienne only recognizing her because her mother had once invited a noble Bosmer family to one of her yearly parties. In fact, this woman greatly resembled the daughter of said family, as her hair was just as rich a brown in color and her eyes as dark a forest green. However, the one discerning feature between the two was the woman’s body. Her skin was fair, and her body shapely, yet there were burn marks on her. She wore ragged cloth, though it was a bit short on her and Vivienne could see a scar start on her left ankle which trailed up, disappeared beneath the cloth, and appeared again on the right side of her neck, just stopping short of her jaw line. The Bosmer seemed to be surveying the surroundings, possibly looking for a way out of her current predicament, and paid no attention to Vivienne._

_The final woman, and the one Vivienne had previously been leaning against while unconscious, was a Nord as well. Her hands were calloused, most likely from use of a sword, but when they hit another bump in the road and she helped push Vivienne back up, Vivienne found that her hands were rather gentle, not what she expected from the calloused palms. The Nord’s hair was shoulder length and a deep red colour, her eyes a steely gray, and her lips somewhat thin for a woman’s, but not at all unattractive. This woman didn’t seem as scarred as the Bosmer, but every time they hit a bump, she seemed to wince softly and hold her side._

_“Are you alright?” Vivienne asked quietly when the Nord winced for the eighth time._

_Nodding slowly, she pushed herself up again and looked to the driver cautiously before speaking as well, her voice carrying her Nordic accent well. “Aye. Fine. I was crossing the border when the Imperials attacked, same as you, the Bosmer, and these Stormcloaks.”_

_Nodding slowly, Vivienne remembered hearing something about a group of rebels in Skyrim that rose up after a man named Ulfric Stormcloak killed the High King. Apparently the Nords of Skyrim didn’t appreciate the way the Emperor was ruling them and had decided to rebel against him, thus leading to where they were now._

_Giving it a moment before asking, lest the guard should hear them and become suspicious, Vivienne leaned in so she could speak without being heard, her voice just loud enough for the Nord woman to hear, “If you don’t mind me asking, what’s your name?”_

_The Nord seemed quite shocked that Vivienne had bothered with her name, especially since they were no doubt being led to their deaths. After a moment, she smiled and answered her with the same voice. “Arianna. Yours?”_

_“Vivienne Mallory.” She replied with a smile. She wanted to ask more questions, where were they, where were they going, why were they being carted off with the rebels even thought they weren’t with them, but all of them faded away as they passed under a gate to a small village, the voice of a guard echoing as he informed a General that the headsman was waiting._

_Not liking the sound of that, Vivienne shrunk in her seat and watched helplessly as they were stopped in the town’s square, a chopping block and priest awaiting them. Once the wagons had stopped, they all filed out quietly, save a coward thief who was desperately trying to convince the Imperials to let him go. They stood quietly and at attention, people walking to stand around the block once their names had been called, the thief making a run for it when he heard his, though he barely managed to get past the guards before he was filled with arrows. However, when it came for the three women to be called up, it was clear that their names weren’t on the list, and as the confused soldier stared down at it, he beckoned the Bosmer woman to him, asking for her name and the place she had been born._

_“Artemis Lachance from Cheydinhal in Cyrodiil.” Her voice was firm and carried an accent that was a strange mix between Imperial and Bosmer. The soldier nodded and wrote her name and information on his list and sent her to the block with the others at the command of his superior._

_Once Artemis had left, he beckoned Arianna and asked her the same question. Arianna straightened to her full height, easily a head taller than the soldier, and spoke in the proud voice all Nords had. “Arianna from Whiterun in Skyrim.”_

_The soldier seemed sorrowed to be sending his own kinsman to the block, but his superior insisted and, grudgingly, he sent her to the block as well and beckoned Vivienne forward, asking once again for her name and place of birth. “Vivienne Mallory from the Imperial City in Cyrodiil.”_

_She too was sent to the block, and though he had sent her to her death, Vivienne couldn’t help but feel a rush of sympathy towards the soldier when she saw his pained expression as he sent innocents to the block. The morning was unreasonably cheerful in Vivienne’s mind, considering they were all to be executed. As was the custom, a priest was present to give them their last rights before they died, though she had barely begun when a Stormcloak rebel angrily marched over and demanded they move on with the execution. As his head rolled on the ground, there were some remarks of how fearless he had been to face death head on like that, but Vivienne felt that it was simple cowardice to not have the ability to sit listen to one’s own last rights._

_There was a moment of silence before they called forth Vivienne to the block, and though she was internally panicking, she walked calmly to the block and knelt, refusing to be seen as a coward in her last moments. The block was sticky with blood and the smell of it invaded her senses as she was forced to lay in it so that she could be beheaded. It seemed an eternity before the headsman finished cleaning his axe and walked back to the block, grinning maliciously at her as if nothing would bring him greater pleasure than to remove her head. Steel grinded against stone as he seemed to slowly raise the axe and heft it over her shoulder, his feet shifting to the proper position, arms raising as he prepared to bring the axe down upon her._

_Suddenly, that moment seemed to freeze and the world faded out as Vivienne’s eyes widened in horror. As the headsman raised his axe, a great, black dragon landed on a watchtower behind him, causing everyone to stumble and fall forward. As her mind caught up with the current moment, she realized that she too had been thrown from the force of its impact, and was now lying on her back, rubble from the watchtower lying beside her. Just as her mind caught up, she became keenly aware that Artemis was standing over her and was helping Arianna pick her up, both worried she was knocked unconscious, or was too dazed to move. Finding her feet, Vivienne stood and nodded a silent thanks to the women before they took off for a watchtower that was still, by some miracle, intact._

_The next few minutes were a blur. The Soldier, Ralof, had cut their hands free and instructed them to leap from the window and through the roof of a burning inn. While Vivienne and Arianna had a bit of a rough landing, Artemis landed gracefully and didn’t seem effected by the near twenty-foot drop. They pushed onward from there, careful to avoid the fires, and met up with the Imperial Soldier that had taken their names, Hadvar. They followed him as well, dodging bodies of the fallen, rubble, and dragon fire as they made their way to the keep. Once they made it to the keep, they were forced to choice who to follow: Ralof, of Hadvar. Glancing each other, they silently agreed to follow Ralof, as they had no intention on following an Imperial._

_The inside of the keep was rather cold considering the raging fire outside, and though the keep remained intact, there were several moments when the stone shifted from the battle happening outside. Ralof, having killed Imperial guards that attempted to keep them from escaping, gave them the armour of his victims, Artemis and Vivienne preferring the light armour while Arianna chose the heavy Captain’s armour. Vivienne hadn’t worn armour before, and, as a result, had trouble getting into it._

_Ralof offered a soft smile to her and helped adjust it so that it fit properly and comfortably, checking each strap to ensure it was fastened well. “You alright there, lass?”_

“Lass? You alright there?”

Vivienne blinked and looked up at Brynjolf, who looked worried, and realized they were standing in front of Honeyside. Having been so wrapped up in her thoughts, Vivienne had failed to hear him ask for the key, and when she didn’t answer, he began to worry that something was wrong with her.

 Smiling slightly, she nodded. “Yeah, sorry. I just got lost in a memory.” 

As she spoke, she took the key from her pocket and inserted it into the lock, smiling more when she heard the door unlock, and pushed it open, stepping inside and taking in the details of her house. The door opened into a kitchen and dining area where a table, hearth, and a couple of shelves were. Each shelf held vegetables, a cheese wheel, and several bottles of ale. On the table were plates, cutlery, and goblets, and seeing that the table was already set, Vivienne felt relieved she wouldn’t have to set it herself, as she had forgotten the etiquette lessons with her mother. Turning to the right, she saw the door that opened into her bedroom, which held a large bed, two empty shelves, a chest, and two more doors. One led outside to the docks, the other went downstairs into the basement where an alchemy lab and children’s bedroom was set up. All in all, the house was a rather cozy retreat from the Cistern.

 “You must’ve really impressed Maven for her to give you a house, lass.” Brynjolf remarked as he took a bottle of ale from a shelf and tugged the cork away with his teeth, swallowing several mouthfuls before he was content enough to pause between drinks. He turned to see where Vivienne had gone, and smiled when he realized she had already fallen asleep on her bed, one arm loosely wrapped around her pillow. Not wanting her to get cold, he set the ale on a nightstand and moved to her side, gently moving her under the covers as he tucked her in.

 His plan to simply leave her resting backfired, somewhat pleasantly in his mind, when she wrapped an arm around his, still asleep, and tugged him to lie down beside her, moving her arm to wrap around his shoulders instead and snuggled into his chest, quite happy for the warmth he was providing. Brynjolf blushed lightly, knowing that implications would be made should anyone find them like this, but after watching her sleep a moment, he found he didn’t quite care what anyone might say, and pulled her in a protective hug as he too fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope y'all enjoy this new chapter!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So very sorry for the long wait. School has been killing me lately and I finally found the time to write again. Here's hoping I can update more often.

When Vivienne awoke, she discovered that she was pleasantly warm in her new bed. The pleasure was short-lived as she realized that she was being held rather closely to someone’s chest, the person still sleeping beside her. Having quite forgotten that she fell asleep with Brynjolf in the house, she attempted to pull away from the intruder, only to be pulled back in and snuggled more protectively than before. She had almost decided that scaring them awake was the only option, as the momentary shock would buy a few minutes for her to run out of the house, but gave up the idea when a few locks of red hair began tickling her cheek, and she suddenly remembered that Brynjolf had been in the house when she fell asleep.

 Blushing lightly, she managed to wriggle an arm free from his grasp and, by some miracle, sat up, giving her clear view of her companion. Brynjolf was laying on his side, just as she had been, his arms still wrapped securely around her waist, keeping her on the bed no matter how much she wiggled. His bright, red hair was messy, spread out in all directions, a few strands tickling his nose. His boot and leather cuirass had been cast aside, leaving him in a simple, green peasant shirt that did little to hide his muscular form.

 Without truly meaning to, Vivienne found herself staring at Brynjolf, raking her eyes over his sleeping form, the way his hair had tangled while asleep, and even his arms as they continued holding her. She had, admittedly, stared at him a few times in passing; generally enjoying the way leather armour clung to him in the best ways, but her imaginings were nothing compared to the real thing. While caught up in her admiring, she didn’t notice that his breathing was no longer rhythmic, the shifting, or the soft smirk that had suddenly appeared on his lips.

 “Enjoying the view, lass?”

 Vivienne squeaked and jumped, trying to quickly pull away before he could see how her blush had darkened, but he had already wrapped his arms further around her and rolled, now laying on top as he pressed her into the mattress. Blushing more, if that was even possible at this point, Vivienne made a last effort to hide her blush from him, quickly shielding her face with her hands and turned her head away, hoping that would be enough to make him stop.

 “Come on now, lass. I want to see that darling face of yours.” Brynjolf said with a laugh, the vibrations of it passing through her in waves. Though she was hiding from him, he could still make out details he otherwise wouldn’t have noticed had he not been so close. Her eyelashes were thicker than most; a light dusting of freckles crossed her nose and cheeks, and when she dared peek at him, he could see small flecks of gold in her otherwise mud brown eyes. When she dared peek yet again, he seized her wrists and slowly pulled her hands away, now studying her just as she had done him.  

 Vivienne was keenly aware of how close they suddenly were, and that Brynjolf was studying her in turn. At first it looked as though he had begun to back off and was finally going to let her go, but just as Vivienne relaxed, his mouth was over hers as he kissed her, his hand letting go of her wrists to cup her cheek gently. The kiss was slow and undemanding, which didn’t bother Vivienne at all, as she had no experience in the affairs of the heart. It took her but a moment to grow comfortable enough to return the kiss, her hands moving to rest on his shoulders. Brynjolf held her for several minutes before finally pulling away for much needed air, his cheeks having turned red as well, and breathed heavier for a moment, gazing at her in a way he hadn’t before.

 Brynjolf knew he had to tell her, he had been thinking about it since he caught Mallus staring at her in the Bannered Mare. She was going to Solitude, the other side of Skyrim, and it could very well be weeks before he saw her again. What if something happened? What if she was caught, or killed while on her journey? He would never know it, none of them would, and that deeply frightened him. Yes, he had to tell her before she left. “Vivienne, I-“

 Both thieves turned immediately towards the bedroom door, someone was knocking at the front door, and from the sound of their voice, it was Delvin, come to tell Vivienne that it was time she left before Mercer had a fit. Sighing heavily, she stood and pulled her cuirass and boots on, quickly packing a bag so she could leave before it was Mercer at her door, and cast Brynjolf an apologetic look. “I’m sorry, but I need to go.”

 Brynjolf acknowledge her with a slight nod and smile. “It’s alright, lass. Just come back in one piece, aye?”

 “Aye. One piece.” Vivienne responded with a smile, swiftly kissing his cheek before she left Honeyside, bidding Delvin farewell as she rushed out the hold’s gates to retrieve her horse from the stables, and then set off for Solitude.

 The journey from Riften to Solitude was surprisingly uneventful, given the fact that most roads either had bandit sentries, wild animals, patrolling Thalmor, or Imperial soldiers, or the occasional dragon that always managed to find Vivienne when she was in a bad mood. The weather had been clear and sunny, which made the trip a bit difficult as Vivienne and her horse would often overheat and need a brief respite, meaning the journey would take longer than it normally did. Still, Vivienne made it to Solitude in one piece, paying a woman named Katla to watch her horse as she walked the steep, sloping hill that lead to Solitude’s gates.

 Nodding once to the guards, she entered the city without conflict, and watched the buzz of merchants and children before turning her gaze to the Winking Skeever and entered the tavern, knowing that Gulum-Ei would most likely be there to stake out potential marks, or to find new clients. Sure enough, the lizard in question was sitting in an alcove with a mug of ale in front of him, his reptilian eyes intently watching the patrons of the tavern. As Vivienne drew near, his gaze then turned to her as he took in her form, the way she walked, and the design of her armour. Recognizing it instantly, he fixed her with a steely gaze and sat back in his chair, hissing softly as she approached.

 “Well what do we have here? Judging from your sent I’d say you were a member of the Thieves Guild, but that can’t be because I told Mercer I wasn’t doing business with you anymore.” His voice was rough and barely contained the venom in his words.

 Vivienne smirked lightly and drew her dagger, a dangerous glint in her eyes. “If that’s so, maybe you can help me. I’m after the name of whomever you said Goldenglow to. Once I have that, I’ll be on my way.” 

 Gulum-Ei’s demeanor changed instantly from disgust to that of fear, his eyes widening slightly, his breath growing short, and his hands suddenly became clammy. Every moment of silence that passed between them seemed to make him even more nervous around her, as he kept shifting in place, or fiddling with the buttons on his overcoat. After roughly ten minutes of silence, he cracked a wary smile and shook his head disbelievingly.

 “You wouldn’t. That’s not how you thieves conduct these sorts of missions, and even if you were to kill me, I still have valuable information. If you want something, you’ll have to give me something in return.” His voice was pitched slightly higher than before, and his voice wavered. His words struck a memory inside her, a moment in Helgen she came to deeply regret, and she found herself having to mentally shake the memory away, not wanting to zone out again like she had done with Brynjolf.

 Instead of falling into the memory, she focused on his words and took them into consideration. True enough, the guild didn’t generally kill their marks or informants, unless they sold them out of course, but as far as she could tell, Gulum-Ei had done nothing of the sort and was only a thorn in Mercer’s side. Still, she needed information and she didn’t fancy playing a game of cat and mouse to get what she wanted. She sighed heavily. _Desperate times call for desperate measures._

 “Krii.” Vivienne watched as her whispered thu’um caused a series of small cuts to rapidly open across the Argonian’s skin, small droplets of blood slowly oozing out and running into the grooves of his rough hide. Gulum-Ei’s fear turned to panic when he realized that Vivienne wasn’t making lighthearted threats, and that she would surely kill him if required.

 “Hold on a moment. Let’s not do anything too hasty.” There was a noticeable waver of terror in his voice now, something Vivienne was proud of, and even suspected that Brynjolf might even feel the same. “I don’t know the buyer’s name, just that she was a woman that had a bone to pick with Mercer Frey. She gave me a large sack of gold and I didn’t ask any questions.”

 Vivienne sat quietly for a moment; there were a number of women that could hold a grudge against Mercer, he wasn’t exactly a ball of sunshine and rainbows, but that wasn’t the only thing bothering her. Gulum-Ei’s hands twitched at his sides, and he refused to make eye contact with her, a sure enough sign that he was either lying, or not telling her everything, and even her threats hadn’t scared all the information out of him. Instead of threatening him again, she sat back and appeared content, a wave of relief washing over the Argonian as he slowly stood.

 “If you’ll excuse me, I have other business to attend to.” His voice was barely above a whisper, as he didn’t trust himself to speak any louder without revealing his panic, unaware that she already knew he was hiding something.

 Vivienne gave a curt nod and a short wave of her hand, dismissing him completely as she took interest in the bard standing a few feet behind her, singing the Song of the Dragonborn. As Gulum-Ei quietly slipped out of the Winking Skeever, Vivienne allowed herself to listen to the bard’s singing, an odd sense of nostalgia coming over her as she remembered the night after she killed her first dragon.  

  _Loud cheers rang through the Bannered Mare as Vivienne, Artemis, Arianna, and the Whiterun Guards raised mugs of ale and mead in celebration of the death of Mirmulnir, the dragon that had all but destroyed the Whiterun Watchtower._

_Vivienne and her friends had stayed with Ralof in Riverwood for nearly two weeks before they set out for Whiterun, having stayed so long to let their wounds heal, and to acquire more appropriate armour. Arianna, who was a gifted blacksmith, had worked at Alvor’s forge, earning gold by forging weapons and armour for him, but also made the steel armour and battleaxe she carried everywhere with her, and the amour that Vivienne and Artemis wore._ _Vivienne, who was not accustomed to the heavy armour her Nordic friend preferred, chose to wear leather armour, one that had been specially crafted with hidden pockets for any valuables she might swipe, not that Arianna approved of stealing of course, and despite her heritage and her friends’ suggestions for elven armour, Artemis too opted for leather armour, claiming she wouldn’t be caught dead looking like a Thalmor, and the two women couldn’t blame her. Thanks to training with Artemis, Vivienne had become quite skilled with daggers, and kept a pair of glass ones at her side while Artemis carried a pair of Daedric daggers and a Daedric bow, having yet to tell her friends how she had acquired them._

_The journey to Whiterun was short and uneventful, and no sooner had they arrived, they were sent back towards Riverwood to a ruin known as Bleakfalls Barrow. Artemis was rather annoyed that they were being sent back, and their trip relatively useless, but Arianna, who had always been the levelheaded one of the group, argued that they couldn’t have been told before they went to Whiterun, and therefore their trip was not a waste. They had many arguments like this throughout the day, and before the end pf it all, Arianna had forced Vivienne and Artemis into silence while they walked, which only led them to silently argue through facial expressions and hand gestures. Getting through the barrow was an easy task once they were all getting along again, the only real trouble being when Vivienne nearly fainted after reading the Shout Wall, a mystery they would later solve after killing the dragon at the watchtower, watching as its soul flowed into Vivienne with enough force to make her cry out in pain for but a moment before cool relief washed over her. That and Artemis’ healing spell. Since then, the guards had taken to calling her Dragonborn, and when they neared the holds’ gates, the sky thundered with the voice of the Graybeards summoning her to High Hrothgar._

_They now sat in the Bannered Mare and drank, the bard, Mikael, playing Song of the Dragonborn as everyone celebrated. Artemis, who was almost always scowling, smiled for a change as she joined the festivities, her cheeks flushed softly from the drink. Though the night was one meant for celebrating, Vivienne’s heart weighed heavily with the knowledge of leaving her friends behind. She hadn’t said anything to them, and didn’t plan to, as she wasn’t one for painful goodbyes, or the empty promise of writing and then never doing so. While Artemis chatted up a patron, and Arianna arm-wrestled a Nord man named Farkas, Vivienne carefully and quietly snuck out, having already paid for her drinks, and headed for the stables._

_“And just where do you think you’re going?” Arianna’s Nordic voice slurred slightly from the drink she had consumed, but otherwise sounded as commanding as ever._

_Vivienne sighed softly and turned from the mare she had just bought, staring at her friends sadly. “I’m heading to High Hrothgar.”_

_“Not without us, you aren’t.” Chimed Artemis’ voice this time, her tone an irritated one._

_Vivienne wasn’t ready for this, saying goodbye and leaving them, the only friends she had ever have, and without meaning to, she began to cry, silent tears rolling down her cheeks as her heart ached horribly. “You can’t come with me. I would never forgive myself if anything ever happened to the two of you.” She sniffled and wiped the tears away in shame. “I care too much about the two of y-“_

_A_ _rianna cut her off with a bear hug that could’ve shamed a bear, only loosening after she realized Vivienne was struggling for breath, and smiled sheepishly as she set her back down, only for Artemis to hug her just as tightly. They didn’t speak, only embraced each other and pretended that it was only a temporary separation instead of a permanent one. Tears had been shed, and though they would each go their own way, they were still bound together through a bond that transcended beyond those created through blood._


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry to keep everyone waiting. This is a bit shorter than what I normally write, but to be fair, I was having some difficulty writing it, so I'm proud I managed this much. 
> 
> Thank you all so much for reading, and I hope you enjoy!

Once again, Vivienne found herself cold and wet while completing Guild business. She had tailed Gulum-Ei from a distance, and when he had entered the East Empire Trading Company, she had followed after him, only to quickly discover there was several guards armed to the teeth, and had decided on an approach that kept her from fighting anyone. The only downside was she had to swim through the water to follow him, and within moments she was shivering from the cold. As Gulum-Ei walked along the boardwalks, nodding to one of the sentries as he went, Vivienne silently followed beneath him, careful in her movements so as to prevent any splashing that may give her away. It seemed ages before he finally went down to where a door lay hidden from everyone else and went inside to who knew where. Cautiously making sure no one was around to see, Vivienne pulled herself from the frigid water and silently rolled across the boardwalk and down to the door, pausing again to ensure she had not been spotted, and then followed after him.

The grotto seemed like your average bandit hideout; wood and rope bridges across caverns, barrels and crates of stolen goods, actual bandits, chests of loot, everything that made it more difficult for Vivienne to quietly maneuver through. Whether it was because she had to move slowly so the bridges didn’t creek, avoid the light of the campfires so she wouldn’t be spotted, or quickly open the lock on a chest without making too much noise. All of these things kept Vivienne from moving quickly, and as much as she enjoyed doing a job efficiently, this one was beginning to grate on her, and after her legs began to ache from all the crouching, she gave up on a stealthy approach and simply began charging the bandits whenever she happened across them, which turned out to be a much faster and more effective way of killing them. A job that would have taken several hours to complete, had she carried on the normal way, only took her an hour, and when she had finished, Gulum-Ei stood waiting for her, practically shaking in fear.

“Now, now…let’s not do anything too hasty...” Vivienne walked up to the Argonian and flat out punched him square in the nose, causing him to reel back in shock and pain.

“ _That_ was for not telling me everything, you scaly…” Vivienne punched him once again; this time she hit his right eye. “And that was for forcing me to follow you into this Divines forsaken place! Do you have any idea what kind of crap I went through to get here??”

“Alright! I’m sorry! Just, don’t hit me again, please!” Gulum-Ei wailed, holding his eye.

“Tell me who you sold Goldenglow to, and that’s the worst you’ll get. Otherwise…” Vivienne let her threat hand in the air a moment as she fingered her dagger, happy to see the Argonian’s features flood with pure terror. _Ah…the joys of threatening someone._

“If I had known it would cause me this much trouble, I never would have done business with them in the first place, believe me.” Gulum-Ei sighed and gingerly rubbed his bruised eye. “The woman I helped sell Goldenglow to was Karliah.”

Vivienne’s eyes widened and then glared at him harshly. “What the hell do you mean, Karliah?”

“I know! It was foolish, but she offered me a lot of gold to do it and keep quiet, so I didn’t ask! Please don’t kill me!”

Vivienne stared at Gulum-Ei in thought. She could easily kill him now, and in doing so, ensure he wouldn’t be able to warn Karliah that the Guild knew she was behind Goldenglow and Honningbrew, but if she did kill him, that would eradicate any ties the Guild had to the East Empire Trading Company, and the only fence they had in Solitude, which was definitely bad for business. As much as she hated it, she would have to let him live.

“If you start trading with the Guild again and opening business for us with the Trading Company, I’ll let you live. Otherwise, you’re useless and not worth our time.”

Gulum-Ei nodded violently. “Yes, of course. Whatever you want.”

Satisfied, Vivienne left as quickly and quietly she had come, swimming beneath the docks so the mercenaries never saw her as she slipped through the gate, and back to Solitude’s docks, her heart weighing heavier than it had when she first set out to find Gulum-Ei. It was dark now, the celestial lights glowed in hues of green and blue as they danced overhead, causing many a traveler to stop and stare a moment, appreciating their beauty.

Since it was too late to even consider traveling back to Riften, Vivienne headed back into the hold and to the Winking Skeever where she rented a room for the night, and bought herself a meal. In her opinion, Vekel’s meals tasted far better than the one she had, but it was at least edible, unlike anything her friend, Arianna, could make. Vivienne laughed quietly to herself at the thought of Arianna. She had tried cooking for them once, but it hadn’t turned out the way she had wanted.

In her attempt to make a hearty stew for dinner, Arianna had accidentally set fire to the pot itself, and melted it into a strange blob that was completely unrecognizable, despite the fact that she was brilliant at the forge. Artemis had laughed at her horrible failure, disposed of the melted pot, and hunted a few quails to roast over the fire instead, which turned out to be a far better meal, and since then, Arianna vowed never to cook again lest she do more than melt a pot next time.

Meal now finished, Vivienne retired to her room for the evening. The room was considerably nicer than others she had rented before at other inns; there was a king-sized bed, a large table with chairs, a wardrobe, and a shelf covered in books. Stripping of her armour, Vivienne poured warm water, which she had heated herself, into a small bowl and wiped herself down with a washcloth. It wasn’t the best bath she had ever taken, but it was better than nothing, and still relaxed her enough that she was content to sleep, a dagger placed under her pillow as always.

The bed was soft and comfortable, and the blankets thick enough to keep her warm throughout the night, but Vivienne found herself still wide awake despite the exhaustion her body felt. It had been a little over a week since she left Riften, and it would be at least a week before she finally found herself in the hold again. Solitude was on the other side of Skyrim. As she lay in bed, thinking over simple, boring days in attempt to lull herself to sleep, she thought of awaking to Brynjolf laying beside her, and the comfort of not waking alone.

Ever since she had moved to Cyrodiil, she had been alone. Her father knew not where they had gone, and her mother was always off consorting with nobles and building a reputation for their name; one she had hoped would carry weight in Cyrodiil when Vivienne was a grown woman. If only she knew the power she had now. Leaving Cyrodiil was probably the greatest decision she had ever made, even after the tragedy of Helgen, she never once regretted leaving her life of comfort for this. She had made friends that she knew could be counted on no matter what, she had found her father, found a guild she enjoyed being apart of, and perhaps, even a man she could truly give herself to, but even with all of that, she still feared being alone. There were several months during her time in Skyrim that she was completely alone, and even when she had slept in the Cistern, she would waken alone, and it scared her to feel the same empty despair of having no one. Save for Brynjolf, who had stayed with her that night. She did not know if it was because of some ulterior motive, and she found she didn’t really care. He had stayed, and she had not been alone, and that’s all she really needed.  

Smiling, she curled up with her pillow, her breathing gradually slowing down, and becoming more rhythmic as she closed her eyes and fell asleep.

 


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry it took so long to write this! Hope y'all enjoy, and I'll try to update more often.

_Oh there once was a hero named Ragnar the Red that came riding to Whiterun from Ol’ Rorikstead! And the braggart did swagger and brandish his blade as he told of bold battles and gold he had made!_

_But then he went quiet did Ragnar the Red when he met the shield-maiden Mathilda who said, “Oh you talk and you lie and you drink all our mead! Now I think it’s high time you lie down and bleed!”_

_So then came the clashing and slashing of steel as the brave lass Mathilda charged in full of zeal! The braggart named Ragnar was boastful no more! When his ugly red head rolled around on the floor!_

Vivienne groaned as she was forced to listen to Ragnar the Red during breakfast. The song was entertaining to be sure, but after hearing it sung several hundreds of times, it began to grate on her nerves. One could only listen to Ragnar the Red a handful of times before it grew old. Thankfully, the bard had sat down for a break, leaving only the chattering drone of the inn’s patrons to fill the atmosphere. Her breakfast was a light one, consisting of an apple, a slice of cheese, and a bread roll. Once her meal had been consumed, she paid and left the Winking Skeever, excited to finally be home. It was two and a half weeks round trip from Riften to Solitude, and then back again, not to mention the day and a half that had already been spent dealing with Gulum-Ei and his crap. If she were lucky, and didn’t make any unnecessary pit stops, she would make it home midday on the ninth day of her trip and have plenty of time to relax at the Flagon and catch up with her friends. Smiling to herself, she waved to the guard at the gate and started down the gravel road towards Riften.

 The day was one of the finest Vivienne had witnessed during her time in Skyrim. The skies were usually a dull gray, overcast with clouds that, more often than not, brought snowy storms all ranging in variety from simple soft flurries that left gentle blankets of white powered that sparkled in the morning sun, to raging blizzards that lasted for hours on end, blotting out the sun and creating such darkness that one often lost track of time. Today, however, was pleasant treat while she walked. The sky, which wasn’t overcast for once, was a brilliant, almost happy, blue, which reflected beautifully with the crystal clear waters of the lakes and little rivers she passed. The air, which was usually a biting cold that seeped into her bones and made them ache terribly, was gentle and warm, and carried the scent of fresh grass and wild flowers. All in all, the day was a peaceful one, and though Vivienne knew any number of things could encounter her on the road, she doubted any of them could truly keep her from enjoying herself for once.

 Around half past one, Vivienne crossed the border into the Reach, and though she knew the land was littered with Forsworn and Dwemer ruins, both of which she despised, she relaxed and let her guard down for a while, taking in the scenery, and picking juniper berries whenever she happened upon them. She wasn’t one to eat fruit very often, but the warmth of the sun and the gentle breezes made her feel lazy and content, so she helped herself to a handful or so, and found that she quite liked the tart fruit, and made a mental note of seeing if she could easily acquire them in Riften. While on the road, she saw a total of six Forsworn camps and three Dwemer ruins, all of which she skirted around to avoid any skirmishes or having her curiosity peaked. As she skirted around the latest ruin, deciding to keep as distance from it as possible, she noticed someone else on the road, a Nord man, if the build was anything to go by. At first, she paid little attention to him, her only concern being that he may be a skooma dealer, (as she had often run into them on the road) but as she drew nearer, she began to recognize the flaming locks and midnight blue leather of the Guild armour, and breaking out in a smile, waved to Brynjolf, laughing to herself at the surprised, yet pleased, look on his face.

 “Of all the people I could have run into, I never expected you, lass!” Brynjolf’s voice was light and playful, a wonderful change from the usual stress and tension he carried. Smiling warmly, he pulled Vivienne into a tight embrace, silently relieved that she had not only stayed alive in good health this far along her journey, but that he had met her on the road and could keep her safe the rest of the way.

 Laughing, Vivienne hugged him back, pulling away before it became awkwardly long for just friends, and began walking down the road with him, grateful for the company. “I take it you have a reason for being all the way out here?”

 “Aye. Job in Markarth.” He glanced to her a moment in thought. “I don’t suppose you’d want to come with me?”

 Vivienne raised a brow at him in amusement to the slight waver in his voice, though she couldn’t be certain what had caused it, it was amusing nonetheless to hear the usually cool headed Nord get nervous. She thought of torturing hi, a moment by prolonging her answer, or pretending to not really be interested but agree since he seemed so eager to have her, but the moment she looked at him to respond and her eyes met with the puppy eyes he was giving her, she couldn’t bring herself to do it.

 “I see no harm in it.” She replied, blushing softly and averting her gaze lest she melt from his.

 Content with her answer, Brynjolf beamed, and the two of them spent the next hour discussing their jobs and how the Guild was doing. Brynjolf was running an errand for Maven, as usual, that would require staying the night in the Dwemer hold, much to Vivienne’s chagrin. While she had been away, things had begun improving for the Guild. Apparently her work with Goldenglow and Honeyside had lit a fire in the other Guild members and they had all begun taking more and more jobs, effectively bringing in more coin and gaining more influence in the holds. Delvin had proposed a total of twenty-eight times since she had left, and at least seven of those ended with a blackened eye.

 As they neared the gates, Vivienne began regaling Brynjolf with everything that had happened during her encounter with Gulum-Ei. He had been pleased with her for managing to scare the Argonian into to giving her information, even if it wasn’t everything she needed, and when she got to the part about fighting off the bandits in the Grotto, Vivienne could have sworn she saw his jaw clench in anger for a moment. Other than those few moments of emotion, he seemed to only be interested in listening and had no real input until she came to Karliah.

 “You mean Karliah was behind this the entire time??” Brynjolf’s tone carried anger in it, and while Vivienne couldn’t blame him for being angry, she felt that the whole thing seemed wrong, though she opted to keep these thoughts to herself.

 “Aye. That’s what he said. What do you think she wants…?”

 “Most likely to drive a wedge between the Guild and Maven. Without Maven, we won’t be able to stand on our own, even with the sudden increase of influence and gold.”

 Vivienne nodded slowly in agreement; that seemed the most likely course of action Karliah would take if she meant to infiltrate the Guild for some reason. The only question was why? Why was she doing all of this, and for what purpose? There were other Guilds throughout Tamriel, surely she could go to one of them if she was seeking fortune. It couldn’t have been that she wanted Mercer dead. He left the Guild the same time every night that one could set their clock to it, and it would not have done much good. He had already told the other Guild members, so there was no real reason to kill him, unless it was to tie up loose ends, but then she would have to murder the entire Guild, and even that was impossible for Karliah and her many talents.

 “You’ve got your thinking face. What is it?” Brynjolf’s voice cut through her thoughts like a knife, though she was more surprised to know she had a “face” than it did startle her.

 “I do _not_ have a thinking face!”

 Brynjolf laughed brightly at the blatant denial. “Aye, you do, lass! Your nose scrunches up and you always end up drumming your fingers against something.”

 Vivienne blushed lightly but didn’t waste the moment and seized the opportunity to cross her arms and quirk a brow at him, a small smirk playing on her lips that was reminiscent to his usual one. “Been watching me, have you?”

 It was Brynjolf’s turn to blush this time, his cheeks nearly the same shade as his hair, he turned away from her and watched the road, going silent for the remainder of the trip, which was roughly an hour or so of more walking. By the time the sun had begun to set, setting the sky ablaze with brilliant hues of red and gold, the sun’s rays glinted off the Dwarven metal that adorned the gates of Markarth. The gates were large doors roughly hewn from stone that had intricate designs carve into their surface accompanied by the Dwarven metal that had been carefully crafted to fit them. Two guards stood on either side of the gate, wearing Markarth garb, and ironically enough, they seemed dwarfed by the great gates they guarded.

As they passed through and into the city, one of the guards nodded to Vivienne and bade her welcome to Markarth, claiming it was the safest hold in Skyrim. Vivienne seriously doubted this, as within five minutes of entering the city, they witnessed a woman be murdered while talking with a stall merchant. The man who had sunk a dagger into her stomach cried something about the Forsworn before the guards attacked and killed him.

 Vivienne frowned as she watched the scene unfold, and if the sudden presence at her side was any indication, Brynjolf felt just as worried as she had and moved closer to protect her if needed. Once the guards had cleared away the bodies and the crowd had dispersed, Brynjolf and Vivienne proceeded to the Silver Blood Inn. Brynjolf paid for the last remaining available room for the two of them to share (Both had blushed) and then he walked to a more private room he was meeting the client in, leaving Vivienne to herself to do as she pleased.

 Unfortunately, it was not wise to leave her to her own devices. Moments after Brynjolf had left for his meeting, a man by the name of Eltrys approached Vivienne and claimed she had dropped a note and thrust the bit of parchment before she could object, leaving just as quickly as he came. Curiosity peaked; Vivienne read the note to discover that Eltrys was asking her to meet him by the Talos statue in Markarth. She would normally be wary of such a suspicious note, but she had seen Eltrys in the square after the woman, Margaret, had been murdered, and she wanted to know why the guards were so reluctant to accept outside help. Against her commonsense and judgment, she left the Silver Blood Inn, leaving no word of where she had gone for Brynjolf, and went to the shrine to meet with this Eltrys and find out what he wanted.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning. There is smut ahead. If you don't like, don't read.

Brynjolf was exhausted. The meeting had taken far longer than he had expected, the client having been new to the concept of how the Thieves Guild worked and needed to be taught before they could get anywhere. Thankfully the meeting had gone rather smoothly and Brynjolf was able to secure another hold in the Guild’s pocket so long as the silver smith had his special mold returned to him. Ready for a few drinks to wind down, Brynjolf went to the room he had rented for him and Vivienne in hopes that she would join him for a drink or two, and maybe something more after they were good and drunk, but no answer came when he knocked so he opened the door and walked inside, surprised to find the room was empty, and that the only sign Vivienne had been in here was her pack laying on the large bed in the room. Confused and worried, Brynjolf walked out and went to the bar, asking if any note had been left for him.  
   
His worry grew when he was informed that there wasn’t a note, and Vivienne had left the inn several hours ago and had yet to return. Frowning deeply, he quickly left the inn and began walking around Markarth, asking everyone he passed if they knew anything about Vivienne and her whereabouts. He eventually got an answer from a passing guard, though it wasn’t an answer that put him at ease, and only cemented the worry in his stomach. Vivienne was in Cidhna Mine.  
   
In retrospect, Vivienne probably shouldn’t have gotten involved in Margaret’s murder. If she hadn’t, she probably would be back at the inn, and enjoying a mug of ale with Brynjolf, her only worry being how they would share that bed. Instead, she was in Cidhna Mine, a shiv clutched in her hand as she approached Grisvar the Unlucky from behind and sank the blade deeply into his throat under Madanach’s orders.  
   
Vivienne’s meeting with Eltrys had revealed that Markarth was in a situation akin to Riften’s; the entire city was in the pocket of the richest man living there named Thonar Silver Blood. In only a few hours, she had walked all over Markarth collecting information about the Forsworn and Thonar. It turned out that the Forsworn King, Madanach, was pulling all the strings and having people murdered in broad daylight as a sign of rebellion. Vivienne had witnessed the deaths of Thonar’s own family, a tragedy she was unable to prevent. Unfortunately, when she returned to the Talos shrine to tell Eltrys what she had found, she discovered his body at the feet of the dragon-slaying god, three Markarth guards waiting for her.  
   
“We warned you, but you just had to go and cause trouble. Now we have to pin all of these recent murders on you, silence witnesses, nothing but work, work, work.”  
   
Vivienne stared at the body horror struck; he told her himself he had an expecting wife waiting for him, and now the baby would grow up fatherless. Her shock quickly turned to anger at the sound of the Guard’s voice and she turned on him, hands moving to her daggers instinctively.  
   
“What the hell have you done??” She snarled, her inner dragon rearing back and roaring at the injustice that had been dealt here.  
   
The guard waved his hand dismissively as if she were a mere child throwing a tantrum. “Same thing we do with all the other natives who want to change things around here. We had a nice little deal going between Thonar and Madanach until you and Eltrys started snooping around.” The guard grinned wickedly as he approached her, and Vivienne backed away cautiously. “Well, you wanted to find the man responsible for those killings? You’ll have plenty of time with the King in Rags while you’re in Cidhna Mine.”  
   
Before she had chance to protest or fight back, a fist collided with her head and everything went dark. Next thing Vivienne knew was that her Guild armour and daggers had been confiscated, she was dressed in rags, and being forced to work in the Mines for the rest of her life. Her adventure hadn’t ended there, though. After intimidating the other inmates, she made her way to Borkul the Beast, the man in charge of guarding Madanach’s personal cell. From there she got a shiv from Grisvar the Unlucky, brought it to Borkul, and gained entrance to speak with Madanach. She took an instant disliking to the arrogant Forsworn king, but agreed to help him escape, if only to escape herself and avoid having to fight every inmate on her road to freedom. As the shiv sunk into Grisvar’s throat, Vivienne made a face at the blood pooling onto her hand and pulled it away, leaving the shiv in his neck as she wiped the blood off onto his clothes.  
   
The next half hour was a blur. After returning to Madanach and announcing that she had killed Grisvar, he saw fit to give the other inmates a speech before leading them off to dwarven tunnels that led out into Markarth. They had encountered a few spiders and dwarven spheres, but the main issue came after a Forsworn woman named Kaie returned her belongings to her. Thonar was waiting with them with at least half of Markarth’s men, and after a heated conversation, fighting broke out. Vivienne felt no sympathy for either side, and since she had her armour on again and her daggers at her side, she felt there was no reason to stay any longer than she needed to, and with skill and the luck of the Divines, she wove her way through the fighting, miraculously getting away with nary and scratch, and returned to Silver Blood Inn, hoping beyond hope that Brynjolf was still with his client.  
   
"Where the fucking hell have you been??"  
  
Vivienne winced at the anger in Brynjolf's voice as she closed the door to their room. Hair was tousled, most likely from him constantly running his fingers through it out of worry, and a few empty bottles of ale were on the corner table, Brynjolf's cheeks rosy from the drink. He was drunk, or close to it, and all because she had worried him. Vivienne felt she should apologise, tell him she was sorry and explain what happened, but anger swelled up inside from he way he had yelled, as if she had to tell him every little thing she did, and instead of the apology she meant to give him, she glared fiercely at him.   
  
"I was busy. Since when is it your job to act like my mother??"  
  
Brynjolf's eyes narrowed in anger and he stepped closer to her, his hands gripping tightly at her shoulders as he leaned in, his breath tickling her cheeks and nose; the scent of alcohol heavy. "What the hell is wrong with you?? You leave for nearly seven hours, and I'm at fault for being worried??"  
  
Brynjolf's voice roared anger towards her, and only fuelled her own anger while simultaneously damaging her pride because he was right, she had no right to be angry, but she was all the same. "Why the fuck do you care??"  
  
"Because I fucking love you, that's why!" Vivienne blinked and stared at him shocked, and before she could react, his lips had crashed against hers.   
  
His lips were rough and demanding as he moved quickly, his hands leaving her shoulders to cup her cheeks and pull her as close as he could. Vivienne's mind was numb, and it took several moments before she finally caught up to what was happening and kissed back, her hands tangling in his hair as she fell into his frenzied pace. Her lips were soft and full, different from his not unpleasantly chapped ones. They held each other for several minutes, both kissing each other as if their very survival depended on it, until they needed air and pulled away, inhaling deeply.   
  
Vivienne was blushing deeply, as was Brynjolf, and they stared at each other, chests heaving, before Vivienne leaned in and started kissing him again, this time slowly, but still with every ounce of passion there had been in the previous kiss. One of Brynjolf's hands cupped Vivienne's cheek while the other wrapped firmly around her waist, holding her flush against his body as he lightly pinched her arse and caused her to gasp, using that moment to deepen the kiss and thrust his tongue into her mouth, revelling in the soft moan the escaped her. His tongue battled hers for dominance until she finally conceded, and be explored every inch of her mouth that he could, finishing off by rubbing his tongue against the roof of her mouth and kneading her arse, arousal bubbling in him at the second moan she made.   
  
They had pulled away again, and instead of blushing and staring shyly at each other once more, their hands shot out to each other's armour and began to deftly undo the many buckles. Brynjolf's cuirass was surprisingly the first to go, and for a moment, he was distracted by the way Vivienne's hands run up and down his chest, drawing slow circled across his skin and around his nipples, teasing him as she let a finger or two slip past the band of his breeches and brush over the base of his member. Vivienne was enthralled with the sight of his chest bared. He was firmly built, his muscles tense under her hands as she explores his torso, but what really got her where the freckles sprinkled across his shoulders and back, and without thinking about it, she began peppering kisses across his chest and shoulders, nipping his nipples lightly when she passed over them. Brynjolf would moan when she did this, and after about the fourth time, he slapped her arse in warning, making her squeak in surprise and pull away, pouting at him.   
  
"What was that for?" She asked with mock innocence.   
  
"You know what for, lass." He said, nipping her collarbone as he leaned in and finished undoing the buckles to her cuirass, and pulled the garment away, tossing it to the corner to join his. "That was for teasing me while I was trying to strip you."   
  
Armour now gone, Brynjolf seized her breast band and threw it to the corner as well, marvelling at her breasts before taking one of the rosy peaks into his mouth and sucking it, teeth and tongue rolling over the nipple while his fingers pinched and tweaked the other. Vivienne whimpered, not in pleasure, but pain, and even fear, and bit her lip the moment it escaped, instantly regretting it for Brynjolf pulled away immediately and looked at her concerned.   
  
"Have....Have you never done this before...?"  
  
Vivienne looked away in shame and nervously fiddled with her thumbs. She was so much of a virgin that she had never even considered courting a man before, let alone allow him to bed her, and while she was enjoying Brynjolf's ministrations, the idea of sex was a truly terrifying one, for all she had ever heard was how badly the first time hurt.   
  
Brynjolf's fingers curled under her chin and brought her gaze back to his. Instead of the mocking, amused look she expected, Brynjolf looked concerned, but also loving as he pressed a gentle, brief kiss to her lips. "We don't have to do this if you don't want to, Vivienne. But if you decide to, I will be every bit as gentle as I can."  
  
Nodding, Vivienne slowly pressed a kiss into his neck and murmured for him to continue, her arms wrapped around his shoulders for both support and comfort. Knowing that she was alright with it, Brynjolf took her breast into his mouth once again, this time being slow and gentle as he suckled her, not being as rough with his teeth, and carefully kneading the other breast as he guided her to the bed and laid down over her. Vivienne was squirming and mewling softly now, her hands having found their way to his hair once more, and he smiled, glad she could relax easily under him and his talented fingers.   
  
Brynjolf pulled away and began trailing slow kisses across her torso, showering every in of in her in love as his hand slid down and deftly unbuckled her breeches and removed her boots, throwing both to the side. Now that she was only in her smalls, Vivienne began squirming uncomfortably again, mostly from embarrassment that she was practically bare, but when Brynjolf gripped her smalls and pulled them down with her teeth, she squirmed for a different reason, and mewled in pleasure. Smirking, Brynjolf covered the insides of her thighs in gentle nips and kisses until he finally came to her folds, and looked up for permission.   
  
Vivienne nodded and tangled her hand in his hair for comfort in knowing she could pull him pack at a moment's notice. Brynjolf started out slow with gentle, featherlight licks against her folds, but never applying the pressure to actually delve into them. Every swipe of his tongue made Vivienne gasp and tug his hair from the newfound pleasure, and when he dared push and tongue her entrance, she moaned loudly and her hips made an involuntary jerk towards him. She blushed and silently cursed his name when he laughed, but all thoughts of anger were drowned out by the feeling of his tongue probing her entrance, and then finally entering her.   
  
Brynjolf carefully moved his tongue in and out of her, loving her wanton moans, how slick and ready she was for him, and how she tasted. He knew that she consumed practically every piece of fruit she could get her hands on, but never did he expect it to influence her flavour, making her sweet with a slightly tart after taste. Moaning at another tug of his hair, Brynjolf grabbed her legs and sat up, slinging them over his shoulders and wrapped his arms around her waist securely, and continued tongue-fucking her, moving faster, and even thumbing her clit when her moans began increasing in volume.   
  
The pressure was building in Vivienne's abdomen, the new angle and his stubble, which rubbed in pleasant ways, helping to bring her closer to her orgasm as Brynjolf's tongue swept expertly over spots within her that made stars dance in her eyes. As the burning coil of pleasure wound ever tighter, Vivienne gripped the sheets and arched her back, moaning Brynjolf's name loudly as she came, Brynjolf licking away her juices and pressing kisses against her sex as he gently laid her back onto the bed. Brynjolf laid down beside her and ran his fingers through her soaked hair, and pressed soft kisses against her temple as he snuggled up beside her, waiting for her to come off her high.   
  
It took a few minutes, but Vivienne managed it, and once she was able to process things, realised that Brynjolf still had his breeches on, and that there was a sizeable bulge that hadn't been there when they started. Vivienne reached out with shaky fingers to undo the buckles and release him from the retraining garment, but Brynjolf pushed her hands away and sat up, undoing it himself, and pushed his breeches down, freeing an impressive cock. It was long, maybe seven inches in length, thick, and the tip glistened from the pre-cum that had already leaked out.   
  
"You don't have to do anything if you don't want to, lass. I just thought you'd want to see-"   
  
Brynjolf's words died in his throat and were replaced with a guttural moan as Vivienne licked the tip curiously. Finding that the cum wasn't the turn off she thought it would be, Vivienne leaned forward more and took the first few inches into her mouth, bobbing her head as she gently sucked Brynjolf's cock. Brynjolf moaned and rolled his hips in time with her, careful to keep from bucking and gagging her, as his hands held her head gently while he stroked her cheek. He would have been content to stay there and let her suck him off, the heat of her mouth was thrilling and he loathed to leave it, but it was late, they would need to be leaving the next morning, and he needed for Vivienne to have her final finish as well.   
  
Gently pulling her head away, and kissing her to communicate she had done nothing wrong, he laid her back again and laid over her, lining his cock up with her entrance. Seeing the hesitation in Vivienne's eyes, he paused a moment and wrapped his arms around her, holding her as close as he could.   
  
"You can still say no, lass. You're not obligated." His voice was soft and kind, and though she was scared, Vivienne bosses for him to continue, and buried her face into the crook of his neck, arms wrapped around him as well.   
  
And it _hurt_. The feeling of being penetrated for the first time cut through her like a knife and burned, and she cried out in pain, a few tears rolling down her cheeks that Brynjolf kissed away. Once he was fully sheathed within her, the pain began to numb, and after a few rolls of his hips, Brynjolf soon had Vivienne moaning and moving in time with him as he thrust slowly and gently into her. There would be other nights for heated passion and pounding into her with everything he had, but tonight was Vivienne's, and as they came together, moaning each other's names in pure ecstasy, their bodies drenched in sweat and spent of all energy, Brynjolf pulled her in close and held her the entire night while they slept.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading my story! Please comment if you found any spelling errors.


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